The Challenge of Being Parents
by Jemima123
Summary: Sherlock and Scarlett Holmes are going to become parents. Watch as they face all types of challenges and tribulations. Series of one shots.
1. Chapter 1

"Scarlett!" Sherlock shouted into the flat as he entered 221B Baker Street and moved into the living room before hearing her grunting voice from upstairs. He raised a brow before shrugging out of his blazer jacket in the warm August air and hanging it onto the coat stand before taking the steps up to the top floor where his eyes went wide as he saw the large amount of bin bags which were outside the door.

"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed at his wife. Scarlett placed a hand onto her hip as she stood in her grey joggers and white vest top, a roller in her hand which was covered in cream paint as her hair remained tied up and she had paint on her arms.

"Well Sherlock," she said and looked at the roller, "it looks like I'm decorating. Maybe you can confirm my beliefs though."

"Don't speak so condescendingly," he told her. "Why are there a large amount of bin bags in the hall? All of my stuff is in them I imagine."

"You would be correct," Scarlett said and went back to rolling the paint onto the bare wall. "Well seeing as how I have a day off work I thought I would start to decorate the nursery-"

"But this is my room!" Sherlock snapped and knelt onto the floor and began to root in the bin bags. "All of my tools..."

"And some of your notes," Scarlett added on, "and there were some things in jars which I can't even begin to discuss."

"The newts?" Sherlock snapped. "Do you know how old they are?"

"Well no I don't," Scarlett drawled. "But I don't want out baby to have to wake up at night and see those things looking at it."

"So what do you propose I do with them?"

"Can't you keep them at St Barts?" she wondered.

"Molly won't allow me," Sherlock replied.

"Well we can't have anything like that in the flat when there is going to be a baby crawling around," Scarlett warned him.

"Why didn't you wait for me to come back before you started with this?"

"Waiting for you can be like waiting for hell to freeze over," Scarlett told him and poured more paint into her small pot before rolling the roller into it. "And I think it looks nice."

"And where am I supposed to work?" Scarlett raised a brow. "Where am I supposed to compose my experiments?"

"I thought you just left them lying around the flat?" Scarlett asked him and he rolled his eyes.

"I do tidy them up."

"Occasionally," Scarlett replied dryly. "And I hate to have to tell you this but you're going to have to stop with the experiments once the baby is here."

"Why?"

"Because what if it swallows something and ends up hurt?" Scarlett tossed her head to the side and looked at her husband. "I'm not having it Sherlock."

"This is preposterous," Sherlock drawled. "And why does the baby get my room?"

"Because we need a nursery and we can't have it sleeping in our room for its whole life. I read a book and we need to keep the baby in our room for at least six months to make sure that it is okay."

"Six months?" Sherlock raised a brow. "Seems a long time."

"Apparently the time flies by," Scarlett waved a hand off. "And I think the baby is in need of this room more than you are."

"You truly believe that?"

"Yes," Scarlett told him curtly. "Now stop acting childish about this and grab a brush and help me with this."

"Oh Scarlett," Sherlock his head and closed up his bin bags and looked at her, "do you really think I am going to stay here and help you with this mundane task?"

"I'm pregnant," she pointed out. "I shouldn't be doing too much on my own." That was the defence which she used when she was feeling lethargic and wanted Sherlock to help her.

"Then stop working," Sherlock told her. "I'm not in the mood for such droll activities."

"Please," she pleaded him. "We can have this done in half an hour if you help."

"Fine," Sherlock huffed. "Let me change first...and take these bags down so I can save things which your dull mind classes as rubbish."

"Anyone's mind would class it as rubbish," she called out to him as he moved down the steps.

"I'm not anyone."

...

"Why are you laughing?" Sherlock asked Scarlett as she stood the other side of the room in silent tears whilst Sherlock stood in a pair of old jeans with an old checked shirt tucked inside of it.

"Nothing," she shook her head. "I'm just wondering how you managed to get more paint on you than onto the walls."

Sherlock looked down on his clothes which were covered in paint as Scarlett looked at the wall which only half was done whilst hers was completely covered in the paint.

"The wall is getting covered," he defended himself. "It'll be fine. I doubt the baby will care if bits aren't painted fully."

"I care!" Scarlett replied and laughed as Sherlock went back to painting and she helped him with the wall he was working on.

"Such a boring task," Sherlock complained. "I can't see why anyone would want to do this. I could have paid someone to do it quicker."

"Oh stop moaning," Scarlett said and flicked some paint onto his nose. Sherlock's eyes fell down awkwardly onto his nose as his eyebrows rose and he looked at Scarlett before flicking splatters of paint at her which went across her face. She jumped back slightly and blinked a few times before Sherlock dodged the way of her brush and she looked challengingly at him.

"Did you really start this?" she asked him.

"Technically you did," Sherlock pointed out.

"Well I'll finish it," Scarlett told him and Sherlock quickly ran out of the room and jumped down the steps before Scarlett followed him. She ran down the steps and looked into the living room where there was no sign of him until she felt his arms go round her waist from behind and his brush went to her face whilst she howled in laughter and he pushed her further into the living room from the hallway.

"Say you quit," Sherlock demanded from her, a broad smile on his face as she turned in his arms.

"I quit," she promised. "You win..."

"As I thought."

"You're crazy, you know that?" she checked with him as she smiled and he chuckled.

"And this baby is half me," he told her.

"God help it," she whispered before he kissed her.

...

A/N: So these are just going to be a set of one shot's which features my character Scarlett who is now married to Sherlock and they are expecting a baby. Truth be known, that is all you need to know for this story. So I hope you enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

"She looks like she's ready to burst any minute," Sherlock whispered to Scarlett whose face fell and she hit him lightly on the arm before he shrugged and raised a brow at her.

"What?" he asked. "She does."

"Well keep your voice down," Scarlett instructed him. "I don't want you to start anything."

"When do I ever start anything?" he asked her and she rolled her eyes.

"Just stop speaking about the other patients like that," Scarlett said. "This is our first scan and you can't ruin it."

"I wasn't intending on ruining it," Sherlock hissed back. "I was merely stating that the woman down the hall looks ready to give birth any moment…it's either that or she really is over-"

"Mrs Holmes?" a voice called out, stopping Sherlock from finishing his sentence and Scarlett quickly stood up and smiled at the nurse as she wrote something down on the clipboard.

"So you're here for your first scan, correct?" the nurse checked and Scarlett nodded.

"I am."

"Right…if you'd like to come through," she gestured towards the door she had just come out of before Scarlett looked back over at Sherlock and quickly nodded her head, indicating towards the door where he should be coming.

"Mr Holmes is perfectly alright to come in," the nurse told Scarlett and Sherlock finally stood up and walked over to his wife where he followed in behind her.

"Right Mrs Holmes, how far gone are you?"

"Fourteen weeks," Scarlett spoke.

"And two days," Sherlock added on. "So she is exactly one hundred days pregnant."

"Thank you Mr Holmes," the nurse said, her eyes narrowing as she set up the equipment and Scarlett looked at her husband who innocently shrugged.

"You were giving inaccurate information," he told his wife as he stood at the end of the bed she had been told to lie on.

"By two days."

"And those two days could have made such a difference," he replied. "We'll be taking no chances when it comes to the baby's health."

"He sounds like a first time father," the nurse said as she finally set up the equipment and grabbed the liquid bottle.

"Hmm," Scarlett simply said, not mentioning he was a second time father.

"So if you could just open up the buttons to your blouse…" the nurse told Scarlett who complied and then just leaned back. "And this may be cold."

"Right then," the nurse spoke and then looked up at the screen. Sherlock walked around to stand beside Scarlett as the two of them peered up at the screen and wrinkled their noses.

"And your baby looks just fine," the nurse declared after a few moments.

"How can you possibly tell?" Scarlett wondered, still looking at the screen.

"It is not a fully formed foetus yet Scarlett," Sherlock answered for her. "It shall take some time before you can even begin to establish where its arms and legs are."

"Your husband is correct Mrs Holmes," the nurse spoke kindly. "But everything is looking healthy and I think you're going to have a strong little baby."

…

"I still can't tell," Scarlett said as she looked at the photo. "But it doesn't matter…it's our first scan Sherlock!" she squealed as they walked in the summer sun down the streets of London, looking for baby clothes and furniture. Sherlock wasn't too enthralled but Lestrade had told him there was no case yet and so what other option did he have other than to give into his wife's demands. He could have stayed at home and shot the walls but that would not have gone down well.

"I am aware it is our first scan," Sherlock nodded. "Now do you not want a bite to eat before we begin this hell on earth task you call shopping?"

"I'm not hungry," Scarlett shook her head.

"And that is not the correct answer," Sherlock replied.

"Sherlock," she complained.

"Don't Sherlock me," he told her. "You're going for some dinner and that is final. You are eating for two now."

…

"What about this one?" Scarlett asked Sherlock as he followed her round the department store in the baby section. He groaned under his breath as his wife ducked down and examined the underneath of the cot.

"It's nice."

"You've said that about the last ten we've been looking at," Scarlett pointed out.

"What can I say?" he drawled. "They're all nice."

"Do you have no opinion on this? Normally you have an opinion on everything," she told him and stood up, peering into the cot and feeling the cushiony mattress whilst Sherlock ran his hand along the side of it.

"I don't have an opinion on trivial things," he reminded her. "You choose whatever cot you want."

"But it has to be something we do together," she told him.

"Fine," Sherlock huffed a little and walked over to the cot on the third row. "I like this one." He called out to her and Scarlett's bottom lip went over her top one whilst Sherlock raised a brow.

"I don't like it," she said.

"You asked for my opinion," he told her and walked back over to her where she stood looking at a different cot.

"Your opinion is wrong," she replied simply.

"An opinion can never be wr-"

"What about this one?" Scarlett interrupted him and he looked down at the white framed cot and nodded, his hand pushing the little mobile above so it began to spin.

"It's nice," Sherlock said.

"So this one?" Scarlett checked.

"If you want," Sherlock said, needing for someone to call him and tell him a serial killer was on the loose.

"I'll go look at highchairs and you pay for this one…and ask for delivery…and we need bed sheets too…you may as well set up a tab," Scarlett told him as she walked off.

"And this is why I should never take you shopping," Sherlock grumbled.

…..

"I'm home," Scarlett called into the flat and she looked around the living room which was covered in boxes of furniture and clothes along with everything else she had bought the other day.

"Guessing the delivery came," she muttered and dumped her work bag onto the floor before hearing banging from upstairs and Sherlock's muttering breath.

"No!" another voice interjected. "You're doing it completely wrong!"

"And how am I supposed to do it?" Sherlock snapped back as Scarlett took to the steps and looked into the nursery where Sherlock was knelt opposite John. The doctor had his hand going through his blonde hair whilst Sherlock held up a large sheet of paper and John held pieces of wood.

"Everything alright?" Scarlett asked, coughing to hide her laughter of amusement.

"John is making a complete mess of putting this cot up," Sherlock told her.

"Me?" John replied. "You don't even know how to turn a screwdriver!"

"Of course I do!" Sherlock snapped back.

"You didn't ten minutes ago!"

"Well you used the present tense. If you wanted to insult me you should have used the past tense!"

"And he's useless at reading instructions," John said. "I mean completely hopeless! I've never seen anything like this before!"

"Luckily for you," Scarlett said and took the instructions from John before kneeling on the floor, "I've seen his shabby attempts at DIY. Now you two go and cook me some tea and I'll do this."

"No way," John said.

"Absolutely not," Sherlock replied.

"I'm fine," Scarlett huffed. "And if I leave it to you two then the baby won't even have anywhere to sleep!"

"Don't be melodramatic," Sherlock told her.

"I'm being realistic." She replied. "Now you two go away for an hour and leave me to it."

…

"She's banging around an awful lot up there," John stated.

"That's because she doesn't know what she's doing," Sherlock replied. "I told her to leave it be."

Suddenly they heard her take the steps into their new department store style living room and she placed her hands onto her hips.

"Done it," she said.

"What?" John asked.

"She's not bad at DIY," Sherlock grunted.

"She's better than you," John said.

"And you," Sherlock replied.

"Girls," Scarlett snapped. "Honestly…you two are like school children."

"Well I think your baby is going to be more mature than your genius husband," John told her and Sherlock flopped onto the sofa, tucking his arms around his legs.

Genius, yes. Mature? Not so much.

….

A/N: Thank you to Borderline Sociopath for reviewing and to the large amount of people who have placed this onto favourite story and story alert! Do review!


	3. Chapter 3

"I wouldn't want to miss this for the world," Sherlock declared as he finished his conversation with Lestrade on the phone and hung up before he went back to texting ferociously on his mobile before using his GPS. He alerted John as to what was happening and looked onto the blustery autumn air before hearing a yelling noise and then the slamming of a wardrobe door. Blinking profusely, he walked into sound of anger which was apparently his bedroom and he looked at his wife in disarray.

"Whatever is the matter?" he asked, finding her sat in a pool of clothes, her eyes turning red as she held onto a red jumper.

"They...don't...none...of them fit me!" she sobbed. "I'm so fat."

"Scarlett," Sherlock spoke in a whisper. "Of course you're fat."

Scarlett's eyes looked up from the clothes and she sniffed loudly before her narrowing eyes went onto Sherlock who simply looked back at her.

"You think I'm fat?" she snapped at the consulting detective. "You think I'm fat?"

"I don't think it," Sherlock drawled, "I know it...but you're pregnant. It is to be expected."

"Uh!" she snapped at him. "You think I'm fat...nothing fits..."

"That's because you're very petite and the baby will make you look fatter than normal."

"Fatter than normal?" she raised a brow. "So normally I'm fat."

"No-"

"Shut up," she demanded him.

"I was just about to explain-"

"Don't you have a case to solve?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then go and solve it."

...

"Freaks here," Sally called out to Lestrade as John and Sherlock ducked under the tape to take a look at the crime scene. Whilst they waited for Lestrade to finish talking, Sherlock and John began muttering to themselves.

"And how is Scarlett getting along?" he asked Sherlock who rolled his eyes and looked onto the sky above him.

"Terrible," Sherlock complained. "I found her sat in a pool of all her clothes, moaning about how she's getting fat."

"She's pregnant," John replied.

"That's what I told her," Sherlock clicked his fingers. "I told her that of course she would be fat because she is carrying an extra life inside of her so-"

"Hold up," John interrupted the curly haired man with a raised hand. "You told her that she is fat?"

"Well yes," Sherlock replied and John simply just placed his hands onto his hips and shook his head whilst a low chuckle moved from his lips and Sherlock stood impatiently.

"What is so funny?" Sherlock snapped. "Do enlighten me."

"You never, ever, ever, tell a woman she is fat Sherlock," John said. "It's just a touchy subject..."

"I don't see why," Sherlock replied.

"Because women don't like to discuss weight with anyone and you never tell her she looks fat."

"I was speaking the truth!" Sherlock defended himself.

"Well the truth is not needed for this topic of discussion," John spoke.

"Did I just hear correctly?" Sally's voice picked up as she walked back over to them with Lestrade in tow. "You called your girlfriend fat?"

"She's pregnant Sherlock," Lestrade spoke, "not fat."

"Thank you for your input on that," Sherlock hissed.

"Pregnant?" Sally checked. "As in she's passing on your genes? Shouldn't they die out?"

"Witty as always Sally," Sherlock spoke dryly. "How you can stand Anderson's dull sense of humour is beyond me."

"Enough Sherlock," Lestrade replied. "If you two want to continue this discussion elsewhere then be my guest but at the moment we have a dead man and a wife wondering what has happened to him."

"I would have thought that is obvious," Sherlock spoke with a slight smirk. "He's dead. No wondering required."

"Enough of your...well..."

"Sarcasm?" Sally asked Lestrade who nodded.

"That'll do," he spoke. "Now go and solve the case."

...

Sherlock walked back into 221B Baker Street on that evening full of life. The case had taken him an hour to solve and deduce it was the wife who had murdered her husband for insurance so she could run off with her lover. And all Sherlock had to do was look at her hands to know it was her.

"I'm back," Sherlock said as he walked into the living room and he found Scarlett sat on an armchair with a bag in her hand. Sherlock arched a quizzical brow as he looked at what she was eating and then noted other discarded wrappers around her.

"Did you solve it?" she asked curtly.

"Hardly worth my time," Sherlock told her and sat in the other armchair. "What are you eating?"

"Haribo's," she replied and chewed on another one. "They're really nice."

"They're sweets," Sherlock informed her. "And that means your cravings have kicked in."

"Well the calorie intake won't matter considering I'm fat already," she said snidely and Sherlock stood up quickly and took her hand, pulling her from her seat.

"What are you doing?" she asked him but received no reply as he stood her in front of the full length mirror and held her in place.

"You see that," he pointed at her reflection. "I don't care if you're getting fatter Scarlett...I don't care if you put on ninety stone-"

"I'm not that big!"

"I was being hypothetical," Sherlock drawled. "You're still the same Scarlett to me and what you're carrying inside of you only makes you look even better."

"I know," she sighed. "I just guess I got frustrated when I tried everything on and nothing fits...only sweatpants and vest tops..."

"Then we'll buy you some more clothes," Sherlock told her. "If it makes you feel any better."

"It might help," she replied. "These are the only ones that fit me."

"Okay?" he asked her.

"Okay," she nodded.

"Good," Sherlock smiled. "Because my mother's coming round tomorrow," he muttered and began to quickly walk off, leaving Scarlett stood with a smile on her face before she took in the realisation of his words and whirled around.

"What?" she snapped whilst Sherlock rushed off down the steps of the flat.

"I'll go and do the shopping," he called up to her, leaving her in her own rage. He didn't want the woman to come round but she had insisted that she wanted to meet his wife and she wanted to make sure that her grandchild would be looked after and Sherlock knew better than to argue with his own mother.

...

A/N: Thank you to Lostlovemanami and England's Rose for reviewing! Please tell me what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

"So where is Sherlock today?" John asked Scarlett who simply just shrugged as she sat on the sofa flipping through a magazine.

"No idea," Scarlett replied. His mother was supposed to visit a while ago but she had yet to do so. She continued putting off her visit and now it was nearly Christmas and London was in the middle of a blizzard. Scarlett didn't mind one little bit about the lack of mother in law but Sherlock continued to be on edge whenever his mother was mentioned. He didn't want her round. He didn't want her to upset his wife but at the same time he didn't have the guts to tell the woman who gave him birth to leave them alone. She did sound genuinely concerned about having her grandchild born into a stable family.

"Let me guess, he just ran off?" John checked and she nodded.

"He left early this morning but I have no idea where he went..." Scarlett replied. "I didn't hear him go."

"Probably a case," John shrugged. "But he didn't text me."

"I have an idea where he's going," Scarlett spoke with a slight smirk on her face as John raised a brow.

"And where may that be?"

"The magazines which I bought full of clothes which I circled have gone missing..." she told him.

"Christmas shopping?"

"I believe it could be possible." Scarlett nodded. "But you know what Sherlock is like."

"Unfortunately," John shook his head. Suddenly, they heard the ringing of a doorbell and Scarlett's eyes went wide whilst John watched the pregnant woman stand up and walk over to the net curtains, slowly pulling them back and then placing her body against the wall, hiding from the view of the window as the woman down below pulled back and looked up to their flat.

"What is it?" John asked her and Scarlett pressed her finger to her lips, indicating for him to be silent.

"It's the monster in law," Scarlett whispered.

"I don't think we need to whisper," John said. "She's standing on the street."

"You don't know what she's like," Scarlett replied. "She's not normal...she could be listening."

"So what do you suggest we do?" John asked. "Because I don't think you're going to let her in."

"I don't intend to," Scarlett replied. "She'll eat me alive...she'll tell me how I'm too fat or about how I'm a waster in life..."

"Just a minute!" a sudden voice snapped as the ringing of the doorbell continued and Scarlett looked at John who looked back at her with wide eyes.

"Mrs Hudson," Scarlett murmured and then moved to the top of the stairs where she had her hand on the lock.

"Mrs Hudson!" Scarlett snapped and the old woman turned around to look at her as she opened the door to reveal Violet Holmes.

"What is it dear?" Mrs Hudson asked and Scarlett shook her head.

"Never mind."

"Can I help you?" Mrs Hudson asked the elder Holmes.

"You can't," she wriggled her nose, "but my daughter in law can."

"Daughter in law?" Mrs Hudson blinked a few times before Violet walked into the home and looked at Scarlett from the bottom of the steps.

"You're quite large," she commented. "Larger than normal pregnant people I would say."

"You're Sherlock's mother?" Mrs Hudson gasped for a moment.

"Luckily for him, yes," Violet spoke. "Now where is my son?" she asked Scarlett as she walked up the stairs and Mrs Hudson just watched on.

"He's gone out for a while," Scarlett spoke. "Why don't you come back later when he's here?"

"You'd love that," Violet muttered.

"Can't say I wouldn't mind," she murmured in response.

"So you're still here, are you?" Violet asked John as she ran a hand over the coffee table which was spotless.

"Actually I'm just visiting," John replied.

"So you're not a polyandrous relationship?" she checked again.

"A what?" Scarlett wondered.

"Relationship of three," John clarified after learning the word the last time she had asked them about it.

"Oh yeah," Scarlett replied sarcastically. "We're all involved...in fact...I don't even know if this baby is your sons."

"The odd part about that is I don't know whether to believe you about that or not," Violet replied and looked at the small Christmas tree in the corner of the room next to the bookshelf which was clattered with Sherlock's stuff.

"This is your son's baby," Scarlett said. "Now why are you here?"

"To make sure my grandchild will be brought up in a nice environment...although...it isn't the environment I'm worried about as much as the parents who are going to raise it."

"Sherlock and I will be fine," Scarlett said.

"I doubt that," she said. "My son is a wanderer and you're just a fake city girl trying to be something you're not."

"Is your sole purpose on this planet to insult people?" Scarlett asked her and John shook his head whilst he watched the woman run her hand over the mantelpiece.

"Only those who aren't as good as me," she told Scarlett who rolled her eyes.

"Oh shut up," Scarlett muttered.

"So where is the nursery?"

"Upstairs in my old room," John told her.

"I shall go and have a look then," she spoke and took to the steps before the two of them could even utter a word. Scarlett looked at John before following the woman up the steps as she stood in the doorway of the nursery.

"The furniture could be nicer," she told her. "And the colour is extremely bland...along with the decoration."

"Sherlock and I like it," Scarlett replied.

"Well if the baby has any of the Holmes genes then it shall not."

"What's wrong with it?" Scarlett snapped.

"It's dull and boring, nothing grand at all," Violet replied.

"Why are you really here?" Scarlett snapped.

"I wanted to see my son...not his tart of a wife. I fail to believe he married you."

"Why?"

"Because you're a cheap and unworthy woman and should not be classed as a Holmes."

"I love your son!" Scarlett snapped. "Is that not enough?"

"No," she said. "It is not."

"I don't see why you can't leave me alone," Scarlett shook her head as she followed the woman back down the steps.

"Because my son could have done better and I won't leave this be until he stops being blinkered," she hissed.

"I love Sherlock," Scarlett replied. "And he loves me...nothing which you say will change that."

"What the hell is going on?" a sudden voice boomed as Scarlett suddenly held onto her stomach as Sherlock looked at his mother and dropped some carrier bags onto the floor.

"Oh dear," Violet spoke. "How good to see you."

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock snapped as he remained intent looking at his mother. John was the only one to notice Scarlett with an odd expression on her face.

"Scarlett?" John asked her. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know," she whispered and Sherlock turned to his wife and saw the pool of water on the floor as his eyes looked back up at her.

"Your waters broke," Sherlock said.

"What?" she asked as John took one of her hands and Sherlock took the other and they guided her to the sofa where she stretched her legs out in front of her and paled.

"It's early..." she shook her head.

"Stress can bring on an early pregnancy," Sherlock spoke, his eyes darting onto his mother as he did so.

"Don't blame this on me," she said whilst Sherlock called for an ambulance.

"I'm putting this entire situation onto your shoulders."

...

"The blizzard it too strong," Sherlock told Scarlett as he knelt by her side, holding onto her hand as John stood at the end of the sofa.

"What do you mean?" she asked, deeply breathing as her contraptions came on and her hold around Sherlock's hand tightened.

"I mean...they can't here...and the roads are blocked..."

"No," she shook her head.

"We can't get you to a hospital," Sherlock told her. "We have to deliver the baby here."

"How typical," Violet complained as she sat across the room in an armchair.

"Shut up mother," Sherlock snapped at her. "It will be fine Scarlett...we have a doctor here..."

"Me?" John asked.

"I don't see any other doctor here," Sherlock snapped.

"I can't deliver the baby..."

"You have no choice," Sherlock told him as he pushed Scarlett's hair from her face and her contraption stopped for a moment.

"I can't do it," John said.

"Yes you bloody can!" Scarlett snapped. "I don't care if you have to look up my-"

"Scarlett," Sherlock told her warningly and she suddenly screamed loudly and pressed her face into Sherlock's chest and he held onto her tightly whilst John adjusted the blanket resting over her bent knees before kneeling down on the floor.

"Do you know anything about delivering a baby?" Violet asked John who shrugged.

"I have an idea...I'm a doctor but I've never done this before..."

"How very typical of her," Violet rolled her eyes. "Can't do things normally."

"Mother!" Sherlock roared. "Shut up!"

"Don't talk to me-"

"I'm close to telling you to piss off!" Scarlett suddenly snapped as she looked at the old woman.

"Calm down," Sherlock urged her. "Don't get stressed...try to keep calm."

"I'm pushing a human being from my vagina Sherlock!" Scarlett yelled at him. "I can't keep calm."

"You need to try," John told her. "Stress isn't good for the baby."

"And loosening your hold on me may help me," Sherlock said.

"Help you?" she snapped. "Help you?"

"You really don't help yourself," John shook his head as Scarlett suddenly tossed her head back and screamed loudly, causing Mrs Hudson to finally move up the steps.

"What the heck is this entire racket?" she asked and took in the sight.

"Scarlett is in labour," John spoke as he saw her spread her legs further apart.

"What?"

"Oh God," Scarlett complained and she whimpered slightly. "I'm not doing this again Sherlock!"

"Okay," he assured her. "That's fine..."

"Scarlett," John suddenly spoke as he saw the head of the baby. "It's coming."

"You need to push," Sherlock told her and she shook her head.

"I can't...it hurts..."

"If you get this bit over with it will be fine," John promised her.

"Come on," Sherlock urged her. "You can do it."

"Uh!" she yelled out as she pushed and squeezed Sherlock's hand.

"One more push," John told her and she complied until she heard the crying of a new life fill the room.

...

A/N: Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

"You need to rest," Sherlock told his wife as she lay in bed, sitting up straight whilst Sherlock stood at the bottom of the bed, his hands resting on the side of the cot as he looked down at the bundle of flesh sleeping peacefully that same evening. Scarlett had managed to get into a hospital and she had refused to let the baby leave her sight and Sherlock had been just as adamant.

"I'm fine," she promised him and he chuckled lightly, running a hand through his black curls before reluctantly leaving his child alone and sitting on the chair beside his wife's bed.

"You've had a trying day," Sherlock told her. "Rest is the only thing which you need."

"How many times do I need to tell you that I'm fine? I don't want to miss anything..." she bit her bottom lip.

"And she will still be here in the morning," Sherlock promised her. "She's not going anywhere."

"I'm not taking any chances," Scarlett replied as nurses went around the ward to check on other patients.

"I'm here," Sherlock replied. "Do you think I'd let anything happen to her?"

"No...can I hold her again?" Scarlett asked him and he nodded at her. He had to admit that he had been hogging his daughter to himself whilst Scarlett was poked and prodded by nurses. Sherlock stood up once again and picked up his sleeping child before cradling her gently in his arms, wondering how fragile she truly was.

"She's going to be just like you," Sherlock told Scarlett as she smiled and held onto the baby.

"You think so?" Scarlett whispered, not wanting to wake her up whilst Sherlock sat himself beside his wife on the bed and placed an arm around her shoulders, looking down at the sleeping baby.

"Of course," he nodded. "She has your blonde hair...but I think she'll have my brains."

"Oh really?" Scarlett raised a brow and Sherlock nodded.

"It's logical. She'll take after you in physical appearance but she shall have all the mental characteristics of me."

"God help her," Scarlett joked.

"She'll be fine," Sherlock shook his head. "Although we do need to think of a name. Baby Holmes doesn't have quite a ring to it."

"I did think of one," Scarlett looked up into Sherlock's eyes for a moment, waiting for him to ask.

"And?"

"Elizabeth," Scarlett said. "What do you think?"

"Elizabeth?" he raised his brows and looked onto the peaceful child before nodding quietly. "I think it's a nice name. When did you pick this out?"

"When you were on a case," Scarlett shrugged awkwardly.

"What about a middle name?" Sherlock asked and Scarlett pulled a face.

"Do we need a middle name?" she asked him. "I think she looks perfect as she does...she's just an Elizabeth Holmes...you don't have a middle name."

"This is true," Sherlock nodded. "But you do."

"I don't think she needs one."

...

"Come on Elizabeth," Scarlett pleaded with the infant as she held her in her arms sat on the armchair in 221B Baker Street. She had come home with her child the previous day and her and Sherlock had been cautious and always keeping their eyes on the child. Sherlock had been called away for a case for a few hours but had found it easy to solve. Nothing complex at all. Scarlett groaned slightly in annoyance whilst Sherlock crossed his legs and continued sitting at the desk, his spoon going into his cereal as he looked at the newspaper in front of him.

"Darling please," Scarlett pleaded as she switched the baby's position.

"Maybe she's not hungry?" Sherlock commented.

"But the midwife said that she should be fed at this time in the morning," Scarlett replied pushing her hair behind her ear whilst Sherlock flipped the page and coughed once.

"Well maybe she's going to have my digestive system," he told her.

"Or maybe there's something wrong with me," Scarlett complained as the baby refused to feed from her mother.

"There's nothing wrong with you Scarlett," Sherlock told her.

"Are my breasts really that bad?" she asked her husband who smirked into his cereal.

"I'm probably not going to answer that question in the way you want," he told her seriously.

"I'm being serious Sherlock," she warned him. "Do you think they're not right for her?"

"She's just not hungry Scarlett," Sherlock promised her and the young blonde did up her blouse whilst Sherlock folded his paper in half.

"Do you think she's ill?" Scarlett panicked as Elizabeth grasped onto her mother's finger with her small fist and Sherlock shook his head.

"She's fine," Sherlock assured her. "Although that smell is not good."

...

"Changing mat?" Scarlett checked.

"Here," Sherlock said and placed it onto the floor beside his coffee table whilst Scarlett lowered Elizabeth onto it.

"Baby wipes?"

"I'm not an idiot Scarlett," Sherlock frowned as she pulled off the sticking parts on the nappy and Sherlock's face frowned as he placed his hand over his nose.

"I think I need a peg for this part," he told her.

"Don't be so dramatic," Scarlett told him, pulling the dirty nappy from Elizabeth before reaching for a baby wipe.

"I can't even look," he spoke, being melodramatic whilst Scarlett continued changing the nappy in the way she had been told to.

"Take this outside and put it in the bin," she told him. "Because little Elizabeth here needs her big strong mummy to do this...not her little weak daddy," Scarlett spoke down to her baby whilst Sherlock raised a brow.

"She can't understand you," he told her.

"I know," Scarlett replied, still looking at her daughter whilst she changed her nappy. "But it helps us bond doesn't it baby? And it also lets you know that you're daddy is a wimp...isn't he? Yes he is..."

"So you're trying to get her to favour you from an early age?" Sherlock raised a brow.

"It's because you're going to be a mummy's girl...aren't you? Yes you are..."

"I'll take this outside then...and she's definitely not going to be a mummy's girl if I have any say about it," Sherlock picked up the disposable nappy in a plastic bag and left his wife speaking to his daughter.

...

"The water is exactly the right temperature according to this duck which tells the temperature...why not use a thermometer?" Sherlock asked as Scarlett unchanged Elizabeth and Sherlock rolled his sleeves up.

"Because ducks are much more fun...aren't they Lizzie?" Scarlett asked as the baby's blue eyes looked up at its mother and Sherlock chuckled as he picked the child up and gently lay her in the baby bath. They had bathed her a few times before but they were still weary. It was Christmas Eve in the Holmes household and they wanted her to be nice and clean for where Aunty Sarah and Uncle John came round. Sherlock had despised making Sarah aunt but Scarlett had been adamant. He didn't understand why they had to be classed as relations considering they were not even related but Scarlett wanted to do it for sentiment.

"But thermometers are much more practical," Sherlock spoke as he looked down at his daughter. "And Elizabeth is going to be a very practical and smart girl, aren't you?"

"But she likes ducks," Scarlett replied. "Don't you Liz?"

"Lizzie doesn't know what she likes," Sherlock told his wife as he held onto Elizabeth's head and Scarlett lapped the water around her.

"Yes she does," Scarlett said and she saw the baby's hand reach out and touch the duck, pushing it away from her.

"Ha!" Sherlock suddenly called out. "Lizzie pushed the duck away. She hates them...don't you Lizzie?"

And then Sherlock stopped as he saw the baby looking up at him with wide eyes and a smile on her face. Scarlett looked on to and then placed a hand over her mouth.

"Sherlock!" she exclaimed. "She's smiling!"

Sherlock remained emotionless for a moment, not sure how to handle this sudden intimacy with his child.

"Oh," Scarlett's face suddenly fell as she and Sherlock looked into the water where bubbles had come from.

"She had gas," the two of them said together.

...

"No," Scarlett shook her head as she rested her hand onto Sherlock's chest that evening. "It's your turn."

"I went the other night," Sherlock complained but Scarlett kicked him under the covers.

"I went last night," she replied.

"Fine," Sherlock huffed and climbed out the bed in his blue pyjamas leaving Scarlett to roll onto her other side as she idly switched the light on and Sherlock picked up his baby.

"Now what is it Elizabeth?" he asked her, his eyes still firmly closed. "What's wrong?"

"She's not hungry," Scarlett spoke. "I fed her earlier...she'll just want a song..."

"A song?" Sherlock raised a brow as Scarlett remained with shut eyes.

"Hmm."

"I'm not singing," Sherlock replied and began to sway on the spot slightly which caused her to calm down slightly. He looked down as Elizabeth's hard face of crying concentration began to stop and he continued his moving around to room slowly with her in his arms, his feet moving from their one spot.

"See...being with your father stops the crying, doesn't it?" he asked her.

"Makes many other's cry," Scarlett replied, her face stuffed in the pillow whilst Sherlock rolled his eyes and continued idly moving with the child.

"I don't know why you've been complaining over looking after her," Sherlock told her. Before Christmas Eve he had been working on a case and Elizabeth was three weeks old, leaving Scarlett to look after her mainly.

"You've changed one nappy and have hardly been here for the last couple of weeks," Scarlett replied. "You can look after her whilst Sarah and I go shopping then."

"When do you plan for this to happen?" he asked, looking at her blonde curls on the pillow as her arm moved onto Sherlock's side and he continued dancing with the baby.

"Boxing Day."

"John and I shall look after her then," Sherlock replied. "How hard can it be?"

...

A/N: Thank you to Che and Borderline Sociopath for reviewing! Baby's first Christmas next and then Sherlock and John look after a newborn baby? Oh dear... Anyway, thanks for reading and do review!


	6. Chapter 6

"What is that ghastly shade of colour?" were the first words to be spoken out of Sherlock's mouth on the Christmas morning when he walked into the living room to see his wife sat with their daughter beside the Christmas tree, looking at all the presents.

"It's pink," Scarlett frowned. "She is a girl."

"So you're stereotyping that pink is for girls?" he checked with her.

"Would you like me to buy you a vibrant pink shirt to show you I'm not stereotyping?"

"I certainly do not."

"Good," Scarlett spoke. "Now stop complaining and hold Elizabeth."

Sherlock obeyed and knelt down on the floor, taking the child into his arms and rocking her gently back and forth whilst Scarlett proceeded to pictures of Sherlock who frowned for the majority of them.

"Now," Scarlett clapped her hands together, "we can open the presents."

The two proud parents sat with their child and opened the presents for her, presenting her with cuddly toys and different types of toys to play with, but, she found the boxes they came in to be of far more interest than any of the presents received.

"That must be John and Sarah," Scarlett said when they heard a knock on the door and Sherlock allowed the couple into their home, well, he tolerated Sarah being there.

"Look what Aunty Sarah and Uncle John have brought for you Lizzie," Sarah smiled as she knelt down with the baby and John sat beside her allowing Sherlock to go back into the kitchen and watch as Scarlett cooked.

"They look so natural, don't you think?" Scarlett checked with Sherlock as she stirred the gravy and he stood beside her looking onto the two of them as Sarah held Elizabeth and John opened her presents.

"And we don't?" he raised a brow in her direction.

"I was just saying that they get on really well with her...we get on Sherlock...of course we do," Scarlett nodded, "I was just thinking that if they have children then they'll be fine."

"You think the human kind is in need of Sarah's gene being passed on?" Sherlock snorted and Scarlett hit him around the arm and he chuckled as she scowled at him.

"Well we passed on your genes," she told him.

"And aren't you glad we did?" he asked her as the baby began to clap with John making her hands do so and Scarlett chuckled.

"I suppose so."

...

"Elizabeth is down for the night," Scarlett said and she walked into the living room where Sherlock was sat at his desk reading through his laptop and Scarlett switched the TV on.

"Good," Sherlock muttered. "Are you still going out tomorrow?"

"Yes," Scarlett said. "I've lost weight and the sales begin...perfect combination," she informed him and dropped onto the armchair, curling her feet beneath her.

"Hmm," Sherlock mused.

"Why?" Scarlett asked him, knowing something was going on in his mind.

"No reason."

"Don't lie to me Sherlock Holmes. I know that sound in your voice."

"You know me too well," Sherlock grumbled. "I need to be more spontaneous...surprise you."

"No you don't," Scarlett replied. "You're fine how you are."

"I think there's a case which Lestrade should see..."

"Sherlock," Scarlett complained. "Can't you let it wait?"

"I should suppose," Sherlock drawled. "The pattern of killing is inconsistent so no one should be murdered tonight."

...

"And the changing things are in the cupboard-"

"I know," Sherlock huffed as he held Elizabeth in his arms and John stood next to him.

"I was talking to John," Scarlett replied. "You won't touch a dirty nappy so have no need to know where the changing things are kept."

"So I have to change the nappy?"

"Afraid so," Scarlett and Sherlock said at the same time and just managed to smirk at each other before Scarlett kissed her daughter and husband and then left with Sarah.

Sherlock rushed over to the window and looked out of it as Sarah and Scarlett walked down the street and he then pulled his phone out, handing his daughter to John as he called Lestrade.

"What are you doing?" John asked Sherlock.

"Calling Lestrade."

"Why?"

"I thought I'd just pay him a social call," Sherlock replied sarcastically. "Why do you think?"

"You've found a case?" he checked.

"I did last night and then he called me this morning but I said I would ring him back...Scarlett would kill me if she knew."

"Why?" John pondered. "She knows your work comes first."

"Not when I have to take my daughter to a crime scene."

...

"When she kills you don't say I didn't warn you," John told Sherlock as the two of them walked to the crime scene. Sherlock had managed to fit the pram into the cab and now had John pushing it down the street to the crime scene. They were gaining some stares from people walking by who thought they were a couple but Sherlock managed to remain oblivious to them.

"She won't kill me," Sherlock said confidently. "I'm sure she's going to be just like me when she's older so this is going to be an insight for her."

"She's just over three weeks old!" John hissed.

"I'm educating her early," Sherlock snapped as they stopped outside the line of tape where Donovan stood.

"What is this?" she asked. "A family outing?"

"Obviously not," Sherlock drawled, "considering the mother isn't here."

"And this must be your new experiment," Sally said and she peered into the pram where Elizabeth was dressed in multiple layers as well as blankets. John scowled at her whilst Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"Her name is Elizabeth," Sherlock replied. "And children aren't considered as experiments these days."

"Well I can say one good thing about her," Donovan said and she stood up straight, looking Sherlock straight in the eye.

"And what is that?"

"She inherited her mother's good looks."

"Ha," John managed to snort.

"Well if you and Anderson ever decide to reproduce then that child won't be as lucky as mine," Sherlock said and walked over to where Lestrade was stood whilst Sally took a moment to reflect on what he had told her.

"Sherlock," Lestrade said, "what are you doing?"

"Coming to help you out by the looks of it," Sherlock replied.

"I know that," Lestrade said, "but why is your three week year old daughter here?"

"Do you suggest I leave her home alone?" Sherlock asked. "I know she's a very bright child but I think it is too early on for that Lestrade. Honestly, you need to think before you speak. My expectations of you just go down because of your silly comments."

"I meant why did you bring her to a crime scene?"

"Scarlett and Sarah went out-"

"Wait," Lestrade raised a hand. "Does Scarlett even know you're here?"

"Do you seriously want me to answer that?" Sherlock replied.

"Never mind," he said. "You can't bring your baby into the crime scene-"

"Why not?" Sherlock interrupted.

"Because she's a baby!" Lestrade replied and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"She's in her pram. She can't see anything...besides...she's sleeping," Sherlock said.

"It's against every single rule," Lestrade shook his head.

"Fine," Sherlock huffed and looked to the side where commotion was kicking off with some newspaper reporters.

"Damn it," Lestrade complained when he saw it. "You and John had best stay here..."

Lestrade took off in the other direction and Sherlock began to move into the home with the pram, ignoring Lestrade's previous complaints.

"Sherlock," John hissed, following the consulting detective. "Did you not hear what he had said?"

"Loud and clear," Sherlock muttered and saw the dead body in the hallway, leaving Elizabeth in her pram as he bent down and looked at it, his leather clad hands going over it, trying to distinguish anything. Suddenly, Elizabeth began crying loudly and Sherlock's face fell as he took a deep breath whilst kneeling by the body.

"Sh," John comforted the baby, kneeling by the pram and rocking it backwards and forwards and Elizabeth's wailing continued and Sherlock tried to examine the body.

"What is it Lizzie?" John asked.

"She's stopping me from thinking," Sherlock complained.

"She's your daughter Sherlock," John snapped. "Shouldn't you be looking after her?"

"I'm busy," Sherlock replied forcefully.

"Come on Liz," John urged her. "Stop crying for your Uncle John..."

John looked upwards in exasperation as he did so, finally noticing something on the ceiling. He stood up slowly, the child still crying as one hand remained on the pram and his eyes remained upwards.

"Sherlock," John whispered.

"What now?"

"Look at the ceiling," he told the consulting detective who did so as he stood up. Whilst he examined the ceiling, he picked up his daughter and rocked her gently.

"What is it?"

"I don't know," Sherlock murmured taking in the picture of a star on the ceiling which had a colour of red in the centre of it which had to have been blood.

"This is brilliant!" Sherlock snapped. "My daughter is going to be a genius!"

"What?" John blinked several times.

"Don't you see?" Sherlock grinned proudly. "Her crying shows she noticed the shape on the ceiling and that was her way of communicating with us to let us know of her findings!"

"You think so?"

"I think I'm going to have a genius of a child."

"Well," John said, "she's definitely going to be like you."

"Scarlett will love that."

...

A/N: I know I haven't updated in a few days but things are really busy! But I decided to have a night off and so here is the result! Enjoy and thank you to all who are reading and please, please do leave a review!


	7. Chapter 7

"Did you have a good shopping trip?" Sherlock asked Scarlett when she walked back into the flat. Sarah had gone straight home and John had left Sherlock as soon as he had made sure the consulting detective and Elizabeth had gotten home safely.

"Not bad," Scarlett replied, dropping her bags onto the floor and seeing her daughter laid in her small cot which was in the living room whilst Sherlock remained stood up, sticking things to the wall as he clicked on his laptop.

"What are you doing?" Scarlett asked Sherlock. "Is that a case?"

"Yes," Sherlock replied.

"And how did you manage to get the file on it?" she raised a brow. "I thought you said the case could wait till tomorrow?"

"Lestrade popped round," he lied to her. "John left early and allowed me to get on with the case...I've been here all day."

"And how has Elizabeth been?"

"She's been fine. John changed her before he left and I gave her a bottle earlier."

"Good," Scarlett smiled as she bent down and allowed Elizabeth to grasp onto her small finger as she watched her husband run his hand through his hair and pace along the fireplace, his face unreadable.

"I've got it!" he suddenly snapped and reached for his coat.

"So you're going?" Scarlett quizzed him.

"I need to go and see someone...I need his expertise..."

"Where are you going?"

"Just somewhere..." Sherlock said and quickly placed his hand onto Scarlett's shoulder before rushing out the door.

...

"Calm down Liz," Scarlett pleaded with her daughter as she held her close. Elizabeth was crying uncontrollably whilst Scarlett juggled her on her hip and held the bottle of milk in her other hand but her child was refusing to take it. Suddenly she heard the doorbell ring and pushed her hair from her face before moving down the stairs and struggling to open it as she juggled the milk bottle in her only free hand.

"Mrs Holmes," a formal voice spoke.

"Please," Scarlett shook her head. "It's Scarlett...what can I help you with? Sherlock left earlier..."

"So he came home?"

"Yes," Scarlett told Lestrade and allowed him in whilst Elizabeth continued crying.

"Because he took off from the crime scene-"

"Crime scene?" Scarlett interrupted. "He said he hadn't been out all morning."

"Oh," Lestrade simply said, realising he may have gotten Sherlock into trouble.

"Where has he been?" Scarlett asked. "And did he take our daughter with him?"

"I think I have clearly said too much," Lestrade replied. "Just let him know I'm looking for him. Have a nice day." And then before Scarlett could stop him he left through the front door and Elizabeth stopped crying. Instead, she made a large gulp sound and her bright blue eyes looked into her mother's as if she knew how much trouble her father was in.

...

"You took Elizabeth to a crime scene!" Scarlett snapped at Sherlock when he walked into the flat later in the evening and he rolled his eyes as he moved about the kitchen where his makeshift lab was set. Elizabeth was sat in her high chair, completely content whilst her eyes looked at her parents.

"She was very good actually," Sherlock informed his wife, patting his daughter on her head gently, ruffling up her thin blonde girls.

"That's not the point Sherlock...she's a baby...she's not even one month old and you took her somewhere a dead body was laying."

"She managed to spot an important symbol on the ceiling via crying," Sherlock told his wife.

"Or maybe she was just disturbed that she was there?" Scarlett suggested.

"Definitely not," Sherlock remained adamant. "She's a brainy one...there's no denying that...I don't think we'll have many issues to worry about once she goes to school. That will be lovely for you...not having to help her with her homework...then again she may be the one who is showing you up and I can imagine that can't be a nice thought-"

"Sherlock!" Scarlett snapped to shut him up. "You are not to take Lizzie to a crime scene ever again. Do you understand me?"

"But what about if certain scenarios arise and I have no op-"

"Never. Again." Scarlett growled lowly and dangerously, leaving Sherlock with no option but to shut up.

"You're just jealous," he suddenly blurted out once she had gone back to cleaning and he sat looking into his microscope.

"Of what?"

"Of the fact that our baby is going to be more like me."

"That doesn't make me jealous."

"Oh really?"

"It just makes me worried."

...

Days seemed to fly by in the Holmes household and little baby Elizabeth continued growing. She was a complete crawler. One minute she would be laid on the changing mat and then when Scarlett looked back she had moved and was reaching out for something Sherlock had left lying around the flat. He hadn't seemed to have comprehended that chemicals were not something to leave on the worktop when they could fall onto the floor and a baby could reach them. He had assured Scarlett that some of them may not have done any damage but she had still berated him.

"What are you doing?" she asked Sherlock one night when she moved into the living room to see him laid on the sofa with Elizabeth resting her head on his chest and he held a book out to the side as he read it.

"Teaching Lizzie," he shrugged awkwardly. "She was crying but you didn't seem to notice and so I took it upon myself to calm her."

"How very good of you to look after your own daughter," Scarlett responded sarcastically.

"Humph," Sherlock grunted. "All she needed was some comfort apparently. Did you know that by being close to her in a calm position then she will stop crying easily?"

"No," Scarlett yawned. "And what are you reading?"

"I'm teaching her the periodic table of elements," Sherlock spoke. "We're up to Boron at the moment."

"How apt."

"You're sarcasm and wit are not needed here are they Lizzie?" Sherlock asked his daughter. "She agrees with me."

"I'm sure she does. Why are you even teaching her that?"

"It was either this or how to dissect a body," Sherlock cocked a brow at her. "I was even going to fetch my skull and show her."

"Sherlock," Scarlett moaned, "just...can you...normally babies have nice stories about animals and princesses..."

"When will Elizabeth ever need to know about fictional things? This is much more educational and interesting."

"But she's a baby," Scarlett flung her arms to the side. "It's how it is."

"Not in this household Scarlett," Sherlock replied. "Now go back to bed."

...

A/N: Thank you to everyone reading this and to all those who faved and alerted it! Please do review! Updates aren't as frequent anymore unfortunately but please let me know what you think.


	8. Chapter 8

"I need you to calm down Lizzie," Sherlock pleaded with his daughter as she remained adamantly crying whilst sitting on the floor, a rattle in her hand whilst Sherlock knelt opposite her with his laptop to one side. Lizzie's little fist held the rattle and her hand managed to slam it up and down against the floor. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at his daughter as she slammed her feet on the floor.

"You're just like your mother when you're having a paddy," Sherlock murmured and Elizabeth wailed even harder.

"Your father is working an important case Elizabeth," he warned his daughter. "Something which could save someone's life."

She remained crying intently and Sherlock ran a hand through his hair.

"Clearly the death of someone isn't important than...no...you like the thrill of the case like I do," Sherlock replied and he grinned slightly. She was going to be him and he just knew it.

"A," Elizabeth suddenly spat out through her crying. "A,a,a!"

"A?" Sherlock raised a brow. "Is that the only thing you can say to this noise?"

"A! A! A!"

"I don't know what you're trying to tell me so I'm just going to take you for a walk in your pram. Fresh air apparently calms babies down."

"A," she replied.

...

"Hey," Scarlett said when she saw Sherlock move out of 221B Baker Street. Sherlock looked at her as she walked down the street, adjusting her black bag on her shoulder and walking tall in her black heels. Scarlett had gone back to work five months after the birth whilst Sherlock had insisted he would be able to look after Elizabeth when he wasn't working a case. And besides, they needed some income.

"Good afternoon," Sherlock replied curtly, managing to pull the pram down the step. "I'm about to take our daughter for a walk considering she won't shut up and let me get on with the case."

"Oh," Scarlett simply said. "I'll take her if you want to get on with the case?"

"I need some air anyway. My brain always thinks better in the open. Join if you want. But you will need to be quiet," he told her warningly and Scarlett rolled her eyes.

"I don't know why I put up with you treating me like this?"

"Because we have a child now and you have no choice," Sherlock replied with a slight smirk and Scarlett snorted.

"I could easily divorce you Sherlock Holmes so you had best treat me nicer."

...

"Don't you think it's beautiful?" Sherlock asked Scarlett as they walked down the pathway to the park. Scarlett had dumped her bag in the trolley in Elizabeth's pram and the baby was now sleeping as she pushed the pram and Sherlock walked beside her, quickly striving ahead slightly whilst Scarlett enjoyed the spring sun.

"What?" she asked him.

"The sky," he replied, looking up at the clouds in the air and the sun in the blueness.

"It's nice," she replied.

"Nice," Sherlock snorted. "Such a tame word."

"Okay," Scarlett rolled her eyes, "it's glorious."

"Don't say it if you don't mean it," Sherlock replied.

"Can we take a break?" she asked him, sitting down on the nearest bench before he had a chance to answer her.

"Do we have time for a break?" he asked her. "I'm needed on this case."

"And you can continue thinking as we walk," she replied.

"Your mother is completely lazy Lizzie," Sherlock complained, looking down into the cot as he saw the baby smile largely and then a loud noise came from her mouth. Scarlett leant forward and looked into the cot as Lizzie's face lit up and a laughing noise continued to come from her whilst Sherlock raised his brow in wonder and looked down onto her whilst her eyes continue looking at her father and she laughed loudly and wildly. Scarlett joined in with the laughter whilst Sherlock frowned.

"Is she laughing at me?" he asked his wife and she chuckled.

"I think so," Scarlett said and passers by continued to move past them, smiling at the sight of the mother and baby laughing. Sherlock remained with a puzzled look on his face and Scarlett smiled as Lizzie clapped her hands together.

"Is your daddy being amusing Lizzie?" she asked her daughter in a high pitched voice.

"I'm not doing anything," Sherlock said and flapped his arms to the side.

"Is daddy being _unintentionally_ funny then baby?" Scarlett checked and rested a hand onto the side of the pram.

"I don't know why I put up with this immature behaviour," Sherlock grunted.

"Does daddy think you're immature? Well you are just a baby, aren't you?"

"I was talking about you," Sherlock muttered.

"And now daddy is being mean," Scarlett said.

"Daddy!" a sudden voice squealed and Scarlett's eyes went wide and the smile fell from her face. "Daddy!" the voice spoke again and Sherlock's face slowly became lighter and his eyes brightened up whilst a grin spread onto his face.

"No," Scarlett shook her head. "You must have planned this!"

"How could I possibly plan our daughter's first word?"

"Because this is you."

"You're just jealous," Sherlock folded his arms.

"I can't believe it."

...

"Who is the best Lizzie?" Sherlock asked the baby as she lay on the floor and he sat besides her, his top half hovering over her whilst Scarlett flipped through her magazine, muttering away.

"Daddy!" she squeaked out.

"Good girl. Daddy!" Sherlock replied, enjoying sly glances over to Scarlett as he did so.

"And who is the wisest person you know?"

"Daddy!"

"And who is becoming slightly annoying now?" Scarlett asked in a high pitched voice.

"Daddy...o...a!" she spat out.

"You envy me," Sherlock said with a grin, picking up his daughter and holding her to him.

"Of course I envy you!" Scarlett replied. "I thought her first words would be to do with me! I gave birth to her!"

"But I have the stronger connection apparently," Sherlock said.

"I don't think I can handle this," she flipped another page.

"Daddy!" she squeaked again.

"Get used to it."


	9. Chapter 9

"Daddy…home.." Elizabeth managed to strangle her words out as Scarlett continued doing the ironing on the Sunday afternoon and she allowed a shrug to go out to her daughter.

"I don't know baby," she said. "Daddy has had to go out with a police man."

"Mummy…" Elizabeth simply spoke. "O…e…"

"Okay honey," Scarlett said, finishing off her ironing, not sure what her daughter was trying to tell her. Elizabeth had been developing over the past few months and was slowly learning how to walk and talk, even if it was random words. Her walking wasn't that good but she did manage to stand up, move for a second, and then fall back to the floor.

"Cop…" Elizabeth strangled out and Scarlett chuckled as she looked at her in the vast play pen they had brought her for the living room instead of her cot.

"Copper?" Scarlett raised a brow and she clapped loudly causing Scarlett to shake her head with a smile as she placed the fresh clothes onto the side, ready to take away later and then began to clear away the iron and ironing board.

"Has daddy been teaching you the periodic table?" she checked with her daughter.

"Daddy," she simply replied. No matter how badly Scarlett wanted to deny it, she knew she was going to be a daddy's girl. Sherlock had made sure about that with his ways.

"Come on then honey…shall we try walking?"

Elizabeth simply looked up as Scarlett picked her up and placed her onto the floor, holding her hands tightly; scared she would break if she let her go.

"One foot," Scarlett whispered lightly, "then the other." And then she fell.

"Okay then," Scarlett simply replied and picked her up again, this time she managed to move all the way alongside Sherlock's sofa before she heard the slamming of the door and her eyes moved over to the steps where Sherlock emerged, his black hair windswept and his blazer slightly askew.

"Daddy!" Elizabeth squeaked and Scarlett smiled as she held her hand onto the child's side, making sure she didn't fall from her feet. Sherlock cocked a brow at his daughter and Scarlett looked over at him.

"Is daddy back?" she asked her daughter.

"Apparently so," Sherlock replied with a yawn. "The case is becoming much more in depth if you were to ask me. I don't know what to think."

"Is it a bad one?" she asked as soon as Sherlock knelt on the floor opposite her, leaving a few steps as Elizabeth rushed from her mother's arms and fell to the floor, crawling back to her father.

"It's becoming a bad one," he told her, settling his daughter onto his knees. "The head was found severed from the body and in a bin bag-"

"Sherlock!" Scarlett hissed and his eyes went wide.

"What?"

"Not in front of Lizzie," she warned him, standing up and beginning to straighten bit and pieces out.

"Lizzie doesn't understand. Do you?" he asked her, his eyes looking down onto her questioning face.

"Daddy," she simply said.

"I rest my case," Sherlock told Scarlett and he stood up with her still in his arms.

"And I have to go out again tonight," he replied. "Things aren't going great and my aid is needed in the lab."

"With Molly?" Scarlett cocked a brow.

"You're not jealous of her are you? I know you get paranoid but-"

"The last time you saw her she stood on your foot and decided she hated you," Sherlock told her husband. "Just…be nice to her."

"Daddy's always nice, isn't he Lizzie?" Sherlock checked with his daughter who just stared at him with her blue eyes. "I'll take that answer as a yes."

…..

"Good evening Molly," Sherlock nodded curtly at the woman as she walked into the lab.

"Sherlock," she replied and they lapsed into silence for a second. Sherlock gave it twenty seconds before she would feel the need to say something and to his shock it took her just ten.

"I understand that Scarlett has given birth?" Molly checked and Sherlock nodded.

"Yes…"

"Yet another thing I had to find out from DI Lestrade," she snapped at him. "I thought we were friends."

"You thought we could be more than that," Sherlock replied to her and she turned red.

"I promised myself I wouldn't get angry with you," she informed him.

"Then don't," he replied. "I find it tiresome."

"And I hear you named her Elizabeth?"

"Yes," Sherlock replied.

"Is she…well…like her mother?"

"In the looks department," Sherlock nodded, peering into the microscope. "Not so much in the brains department."

"She's a baby. Surely you don't know about her mental ability yet?"

"Believe me," Sherlock nodded. "I do. Just the other day she managed to repeat some of the elements from the periodic table back to me."

"Dear God," Molly couldn't help but chuckle. "Let's just hope she doesn't turn out to be as much of an arse as you are."


	10. Chapter 10

"Crap," Sherlock muttered as he wandered around the flat. Sherlock normally wasn't one to use strong language but he had lost something which was extremely important to him. His daughter. He had once again been too engrossed in a case and his mind had wandered off. He had been stood in front of the fireplace, looking onto the map of London before he had noted that the living room had seemed too quiet. Elizabeth was starting her creeping stage, moving around the flat and walking away whenever she could and it didn't help that Sherlock had left the play pen open.

"Lizzie," Sherlock called her name out, "come out now before your mother comes back and murders your father because we both know that is what would happen."

Sherlock walked into the kitchen, quietly stepping, trying to notice if any noise came out from any room. Sherlock ducked down and opened up the cabinets, dropping onto his knees and then crawling through the kitchen and even checking the oven for any trace of her.

"Lizzie," Sherlock drawled and stood up before walking through the door into the hallway and looking for open doors. He saw the bedroom was open and walked in before his eyes went wide at the sight of his daughter who had managed to crawl onto Sherlock's bed by using her mother's things as obstacles.

"Lizzie!" Sherlock snapped at his daughter who stopped what she was doing and looked at her father with wide blue eyes.

"Daddy...what wrong?" she managed to worm out her words and Sherlock snorted before he placed his hands onto his hips and shook his head, his daughter looking over at him in complete and utter confusion before he moved over to the bed and took the blouse from his daughter's hands and looked at it.

"How did you even manage to do that?" Sherlock asked her and she raised her hand up and dropped it onto the bed.

"Mummy...on floor...daddy," she simply spoke and Sherlock placed a hand onto his daughter's head and stroked back her blonde hair as she smiled at him.

"I am aware your mother left it on the floor. She couldn't decide what to wear today and she didn't want to chose her favourite blouse which you have managed to rip the buttons off," he looked at his daughter with narrowed eyes and she picked up that her father didn't seem happy as he was frowning and a brow was raised in his daughter's direction.

"Daddy...me trouble?" She asked her father and he took a deep breath and sighed.

"I'm not happy Lizzie," Sherlock assured her. "But...I'll...I'll fix this...now can you stay here?"

"Daddy...yes..." she said and Sherlock nodded.

"Good girl," and then he began to gather the buttons his daughter had ripped off her mother's blouse into his hand before dropping them onto the dressing table and going through Scarlett's draws and searching for her sewing kit.

"Mummy home?" Lizzie asked.

"Not yet," he told her. "She's working and I need to fix this before she can step foot into this flat."

...

"Mummy!" Elizabeth squeaked when she saw Scarlett walk into the flat. Her mother pushed her blonde hair from her face and dropped her leather bag onto the floor before seeing Elizabeth in her play pen, standing up and her hands reaching up for her mother. Scarlett bent down and picked Lizzie up, holding her close before kicking off her heels and patting her daughter's back.

"Where's your daddy?" Scarlett asked.

"Bathroom," Lizzie replied and then Scarlett noticed what was sat on the table which housed all of Sherlock's paperwork and her eyes went wide. A bouquet of flowers sat on the table, potent smelling and blinding colours. Scarlett pushed her free hand through her hair before looking at them. Sherlock never bought her flowers. He never had the sentiment to buy her flowers.

"Ah you're back," Sherlock declared when he saw her. "How was the droll place you call work?"

"Good," she said, "Sherlock where-"

"I don't know why you went back to work so early," he interrupted her, not wanting to discuss the flowers because they were only a way to suck up to his wife.

"Because we need to have money," Scarlett blinked a few times, "and the flowers-"

"Nice, aren't they?" Sherlock cocked a brow. "Anyway, I have fed Lizzie before you came home and I haven't got anything cooked at the moment because I need to go out and help with the case and now that you're back I am able to do that."

"Why did you buy me flowers?" she managed to ask him and Sherlock frowned, reaching for his blazer jacket and shrugging into it, moving around the flat for his phone as he did so.

"Can a husband not buy his wife flowers spontaneously?" he asked her.

"Well yes," she nodded, "but you-"

"Well I did," Sherlock interrupted her. "You can hurt me sometimes with what you think," he replied and she snorted before Sherlock moved out the flat without another word.

"Damn," Scarlett whispered.

"Damn," Liz repeated her mother and Scarlett patted her back once.

"Don't say that again Lizzie," she warned her. Had Sherlock purposefully bought her flowers because he wanted to? Scarlett couldn't believe it but maybe he had. She took her daughter into the bedroom, wanting to change into comfier clothes and so she dropped her daughter onto the bed before searching her wardrobe. She saw her favourite blouse on the floor before picking it up, about to hang it up before she noted something. Holding it up to examine it further her eyes went wide and she shook her head. All of the buttons seemed to have been pulled off and then sewn back onto the wrong places do that buttons didn't fit exactly opposite the hole they slotted into.

"Jesus Christ," Scarlett whispered.

"Jesus Christ," Lizzie snapped back and Scarlett shook her head, knowing she should never leave Sherlock on his own with his daughter.

...

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed and leave me your thoughts!


	11. Chapter 11

"I don't know why I need to wear this suit," Sherlock complained. "There is only Sarah and John who are planning on attending this ceremony."

"Because you need to look smart Sherlock," Scarlett told her husband as she laid Elizabeth down on the bed and began to change her. "Our daughter is growing up and she needs to be christened."

"Can't we allow her to make that decision on her own?" Sherlock asked Scarlett as he looked at the tie she had stuffed into his hands. His nose wrinkled up and he ran a hand through his hair. "When she is old enough then can't she choose if she would like to be christened or not?"

"I was christened Sherlock," Scarlett told him.

"As was I," he agreed. "But I don't see why we can't just let Elizabeth make her own decision."

"I want her to be christened Sherlock," Scarlett replied with a sigh. "Can't we just agree on this one thing? Lizzie will almost be one and I just want to do the known traditional thing."

"I suppose if it makes you happy," Sherlock shrugged. "And if it stops you from moaning at me then I shall not object."

"Thank you," Scarlett spoke. "And we need to think about what we're going to buy Elizabeth for her birthday."

"Funnily enough," Sherlock spoke in a drawl, "I don't think she will be that bothered."

"Well we shall decide soon," Sherlock spoke. "And that dress is far too big for Elizabeth."

"Are you quite finished complaining?" Scarlett asked him. "It's a christening dress...it is supposed to be long. And I think she looks cute."

...

"She's growing up fast!" Sarah shrieked as she held onto her goddaughter and John and Sherlock stood to one side and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Why must your girlfriend persist in speaking at levels only dogs can hear?" he asked John who hit him lightly around the arm and Sherlock chuckled.

"She only does it when she gets excited." John shrugged. "Most women do."

"Scarlett only does it when she swears," Sherlock replied, rocking back and forth on his heels whilst they waited for the vicar to begin the ceremony. They were all stood near the altar and John simply raised a brow at his friend in confusion before Sherlock began to explain. "Scarlett only goes high pitched when she swears. She can't swear in a flat voice."

"Strange," John replied.

"She's a strange woman," Sherlock chuckled and John picked up the bottom of his friends tie with a cocky grin on his face.

"A tie?" he asked.

"It was either hanging around my neck like this or holding me from the ceiling," Sherlock complained. "I really didn't have much of a say and I don't fancy a difficult life with Scarlett so I did as she asked me for once."

"Daddy!" a sudden voice shrieked and Scarlett looked over at his daughter who was looking at him. She was clever. There was no denying it for she knew how to say certain words and she was only just under one. Sherlock couldn't help but feel proud that she was part of him and knew so much already. Sherlock walked over to her whilst Scarlett held her and he allowed the baby to hold onto his long finger in her grasp.

"What's wrong Elizabeth?" Sherlock asked her.

"Daddy," she replied.

"Daddy is wrong Elizabeth," Scarlett agreed and dropped a kiss onto the top of her head.

"Thank you my dear wife," Sherlock spoke before the vicar came in. The ceremony was short and sweet and Elizabeth howled with tears as she had the water placed onto her forehead. Sherlock held her tightly as they declared John and Sarah her godparents and then it was other after they had all promised to protect her for as long as they live. And they would see to that promise.

...

"So we're taking our daughter with us whilst we shop for her birthday presents?" Sherlock checked with Scarlett as she pushed the pram and he walked beside her. She had finished from work and Sherlock had agreed to meet with her in the shopping centre where they would go and find presents.

"I thought you were the one who said Lizzie wouldn't care what she got?" Scarlett cocked a brow and saw a coffee shop and looked longingly at the caffeine.

"I was," Sherlock nodded. "But we still shouldn't...oh crap..." he trailed off and Scarlett looked up at him before he looked across the row of shops and wrapped an arm around his wife's waist and steered her quickly down the corridor but he was not quick enough.

"Sherlock!" a voice boomed out and Sherlock looked on as his mother approached him. The mother who had made his life hell and was adamant to hate his wife.

"I have not seen you in a while," Violet said. "I was beginning to wonder if you were planning on bringing my granddaughter to see me."

"We've been busy," Sherlock said curtly whilst Violet looked into the pram and her nose simply just screwed up.

"She's got awfully large eyes," Violet said.

"I think her eyes are perfect," Scarlett replied in a hiss and Sherlock tightened his hold on his wife, not wanting her to start anything in public.

"You would. They're like yours," Violet replied. "And her hair is terribly straight. Not going to be much bounce to it."

"Mother," Sherlock snapped, "if you wouldn't mind Scarlett and I are quite busy."

"What are you doing here?"

"Seeing as how we're in a shopping centre I think we're going shopping," Scarlett replied with sarcasm in her voice and Violet frowned.

"No need for that tone," she spoke. "You forget who you speak to."

"I forget who I'm speaking to?" Scarlett replied, her voice dangerous whilst Sherlock wrapped a hand around her arm.

"Scarlett," he spoke lightly. "We're going to go mother. We're terribly busy."

"Too busy for your own mother?" she raised both brows.

"Yes," Sherlock spoke. "Especially if all you're going to do is stand here and belittle my daughter. Scarlett and I are happy with Elizabeth and she is a perfect baby to us. Your opinion is invalid."


	12. Chapter 12

"But it's her first day!" Scarlett shrieked as Sherlock lay in bed. He wore his blue pyjamas and his face was emotionless as he cocked a brow at his wife who was sat on the stool of her dressing table. The last year had seemed to have flown by for the Holmes family and now Elizabeth was a three year old girl, capable of speaking in fluent sentences and of course she had correct grammar. If she didn't then Sherlock would let her know about it. She had developed into a cute looking girl and it was clear she had her mother's looks. But she did have her father's pale complexion and high cheekbones. It was clear to see she was a mixture of both of them. Sherlock remained silent and allowed Scarlett to sigh and reminisce about the times when Lizzie was so small and not as opinionated as she is.

"It is only preschool Scarlett," Sherlock told his wife. "In a few more years then she will be going to the infant school."

"Oh Sherlock," Scarlett sighed. "Where does the time go? I still think it is strange that she is sleeping in her own bed and not a cot."

"I don't think she would appreciate a cot," Sherlock replied with a slight frown and Scarlett chuckled as she dropped her makeup bag onto the surface and then went to her wardrobe and pulled out a box shaped object whilst Sherlock raised a brow.

"What do you think?" she asked Sherlock who chuckled lightly.

"You bought her a lunchbox?" he checked with his wife who looked at it with its pretty fairy picture and she shrugged.

"I thought it was cute," she said.

"Why is daddy still in bed?" a sudden voice asked and they both looked to the door where Elizabeth stood. The little girl watched both her parents before Scarlett set the lunchbox down and looked at Sherlock.

"Because daddy is feeling tired still," Scarlett told her daughter.

"Daddy not well?" Elizabeth wondered and walked over to the bed, hauling herself up onto it where Sherlock allowed her to sit down on his legs, slightly uncomfortable at the weight of her.

"Your father is fine Lizzie," Sherlock promised his daughter. "Just still sleepy."

"I'm sleepy," Elizabeth declared. "Can I go to bed?"

"You've just gotten up Elizabeth," Scarlett told her daughter. "And we need to get you dressed as well. You have a big day."

At the words 'big day' Lizzie leant her head onto her father's chest who looked down at the top of her blonde curls whilst Scarlett placed her hands onto her hips and shook her head.

"Come now," she told her daughter, shrugging into her blazer jacket. "You're going to be fine...you'll meet lots of new children and find friends."

"Daddy said that friends aren't important," Elizabeth told her mother who narrowed her eyes at Sherlock.

"I didn't necessarily mean it Lizzie," Sherlock told his daughter who looked up at him.

"Then why did you say it?" she asked her father. "Mummy said it's wrong to lie."

"And it is," Sherlock assured her. "But your father isn't a good person."

"I think daddy is good," Elizabeth spoke and Scarlett couldn't help but mentally shake her head. Even when he told her a lie she still thought he was God's gift on Earth. He had truly managed to manipulate her to be his little girl.

"Thank you Elizabeth," Sherlock spoke. "Now why don't you go back to your room and your mother can change you."

With a nod, she jumped down from the bed and slowly wandered off back down the corridor. Sherlock leant his head back against the headboard and closed his eyes, a small grin taking over his face before he felt a pillow hit him.

"What?" he asked his wife.

"You need to stop telling Lizzie some of the things you do. She'll never make friends if you carry on doing so."

"She'll be fine," Sherlock shrugged off. "And I'll pick her up from preschool tonight."

"Fine," Scarlett agreed. "I'd best go and get her ready...don't strain yourself too much today."

"I shan't," he promised her and she snorted.

...

"Now have you got everything?" Scarlett checked as she bent down to Lizzie's height and zipped her coat up to the top as they stood in the small playground, waiting with all the other children until they were called to go in. Elizabeth nodded and Scarlett handed her a pack up box which she took.

"Remember to be a good girl, okay?" she told her and she nodded.

"I will," she promised.

"And just be nice to the other children and try and make a friend," Scarlett pushed her.

"Yes mummy," she spoke.

"And daddy will be here to pick you up tonight, so look out for him," Scarlett said and then the doors to preschool opened and the teachers came out. Scarlett kissed her daughter on the head before grasping her hand and squeezing it once. "Are you going to go in Lizzie?"

The little girl remained quiet for a moment as she turned to look at the brick building where others were entering. Scarlett stood tall as she watched her daughter enter the building, only once did she turn around and look at her mother. Scarlett nodded when all the other children had gone and then all the parents began to disappear.

...

Sherlock stood in the dull playground with his hands stuffed into his coat pocket. He was looking around at all the other parents who were mainly mums and he checked his watch again. He had made it to the preschool in record time after helping Lestrade on a case and he was quite impressed. He had kept himself distanced from the other people and his eyes remained fixed on the doors. As soon as they opened, he looked around for his daughter and he saw her trudging out, a sullen look on her face. She noted her father as the tall pale man and walked over to him as he automatically took her hand and they began walking out the playground.

"Did you have a good day?" he asked her and she shook her head.

"Would you like to tell me about it?" he pushed her, looking down onto her blonde hair as they walked.

"I'm a freak," she said and began to cry lightly. Sherlock cocked a brow and picked her up into his arm, allowing her hand to rest on his shoulder.

"And why are you a freak?" he asked her in wonder.

"Because Mrs Wells ask me-"

"It's asked Elizabeth," Sherlock corrected his daughter.

"She asked me if I knew the alphabet and I said yes," she sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

"And how does that make you a freak?" Sherlock wondered.

"Because a boy called Matt said it did," Elizabeth said. "He said his mummy told him no one would know the alphabet because it is too hard."

"Lizzie," Sherlock sighed. "You're not a freak."

"But I know the alphabet," her eyes went wide and Sherlock shook his head.

"And you nearly know the periodic table of elements. You're not a freak...you're a clever little girl," Sherlock assured her.

"But Matt-"

"It doesn't matter what that boy said," Sherlock told her. "You're an intelligent person and he just wishes he was you."

"Why?"

"Because you're so smart," Sherlock told her. "And don't let anyone else upset you."

...

Review?


	13. Chapter 13

"Where is Elizabeth?" Scarlett asked when Sherlock walked back in from picking her up from preschool. She had been going to that place for two months and her fourth birthday was approaching. She had pleaded with her parents to let her have a bouncy castle party like a girl she had met did but they had to decline that. They had no garden and Sherlock had told his daughter that the residents of Baker Street would not take kindly to a bouncy castle on the street.

"She's gone over to Lilly's for tea," Sherlock spoke. "I was waiting in the playground when her mother asked me. I said it would be fine."

"Did you take down any phone numbers?" Scarlett asked him, sitting at her laptop on the computer desk whilst Sherlock sat opposite her, trying to tidy some paperwork away.

"I wasn't flirting with her mother Scarlett-"

"I didn't mean that," she interrupted him. "I meant did you take any numbers down so that we can get in touch if anything were to happen?"

"No," Sherlock replied. "But Liz is smart. She has our phone number stored in her brain."

"Does she really?"

"She does," Sherlock confirmed. "I asked her for it the other night and she reeled it off in lightning speed. She will be fine."

"And when does she intend on coming home?" Scarlett continued to quiz her husband.

"Sh," Sherlock suddenly demanded and Scarlett looked at him as he looked over to the door. "Get up," he demanded and Scarlett's heart began to race as Sherlock stood and grasped onto her arm, wheeling her into the kitchen before they heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Who have you annoyed now?" Scarlett hissed at him and Sherlock clamped his hand over her mouth to shut her up. As the footsteps moved into the living room Sherlock moved around and back into the hallway with Scarlett close on his tail. As they moved for the steps, the man heard them and moved back into the hallway.

"Mr Holmes," he greeted Sherlock who simply nodded in response, waiting for something to happen. And it surely did. The intruder flung a punch at Sherlock who ducked it with grace, pushing him back into the living room whilst Scarlett phoned for the police. As she did, she felt her hand being pulled from her ear and saw another man had entered the flat. The phone fell to the floor and Scarlett balled her hand into a fist, swinging it at the intruder who caught it in his grasp.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow," Scarlett complained as he twisted her arm to within breaking point and pushed her into the living room where Sherlock had fallen back into his chair and was ducking hits from the other man.

"Where is the child?" he demanded from Scarlett, pushing her body against the wall, causing her to shout in pain as she hit her nose against the wall.

"What?" she snapped back. "What child?"

"Elizabeth Holmes," he said and Scarlett felt the blood run from her body as he turned her around again and she saw Sherlock who had managed to hit his man over the head with the light Scarlett had bought to decorate the flat. He had broken it. Well he would be replacing it.

"Let her go," he demanded in a cool voice, standing there and placing a hand through his black curly hair.

"Where is the child?" he demanded again.

"You will never know," Sherlock spoke. "Now let her go and get out."

"Not until we have the child."

"She's not here!" Scarlett called out. "She's out!"

"Where is she?"

"Good try," Scarlett hissed and Sherlock took no time in hitting the man in the jaw as his wife ducked down slightly. The man released his hold on Scarlett and she allowed Sherlock to knock him cold, leaving a pile of two unconscious men.

"Well," Sherlock placed his hands onto his hips, "that was good exercise."

"They had come for our daughter Sherlock!" Scarlett snapped as Sherlock went through their pockets, searching for any clues as to who they were. He knew within an instance of seeing his brother's stamp on one of their handkerchiefs.

"Mycroft sent them," Sherlock replied and Scarlett's eyes went wide.

"I thought we had gotten rid of your brother!" she snapped. "I thought he was going to leave us alone!"

"Apparently not," Sherlock spoke.

...

"Daddy," Elizabeth spoke to her father when he had fetched her home. "Why is mummy packing?"

"Because you and your mother are going away for a little while," Sherlock told his daughter, holding her in his arms whilst Scarlett packed a case.

"Are we going on holiday?" Lizzie asked and Sherlock nodded, moving around the living room with her in his arms.

"It is something like that," he agreed.

"Aren't you coming with us?"

"I have to stay here and help the police," he told her and she nodded.

"But why are just me and mummy going?" she wondered.

"It is because your mother wants to spend time with you Elizabeth. And your Aunty Sarah is coming too," Sherlock scowled slightly.

"I like Aunty Sarah," Elizabeth declared.

"Someone has too," Sherlock replied in a mutter before he saw Scarlett come back out the hallway with her case and Lizzie's small backpack. Sherlock helped his daughter into her coat before walking down the steps with the case, waiting by the cab. He ducked down to his daughter's height and looked her in the eye.

"You will have to be a good girl for your mother, okay?" he checked with her and she nodded.

"Yes daddy," she agreed.

"And I'll see you soon Lizzie," Sherlock said and kissed her lightly on top of her head as Scarlett opened the door and helped her daughter in.

"I love you daddy," Elizabeth said and Sherlock stood up, nodding as Scarlett closed the door on her for a moment.

"You be careful," she demanded from him.

"You need to be more careful than me," he told her. "And I'll find out what is going on and then I'll bring you both back."

"I hope so," Scarlett said and Sherlock hugged her tightly.

"Look after our daughter," Sherlock told Scarlett.

"I will."

...

A/N: Thank you to BookyGurl, Che and Borderline Sociopath for reviewing the last few chapters! More to come soon so please, please, please, do review!


	14. Chapter 14

"Are you alright Lizzie?" Scarlett asked her daughter as she, Sarah and Liz walked through the terminal of Heathrow airport. Scarlett carried her passport and tickets in her hand whilst Sarah held onto Elizabeth's hand, allowing the mother to take care of all the necessary paperwork to get them out of the country and into France.

"No," Elizabeth sulked. "I want my daddy."

"Daddy is busy Lizzie," Sarah told her goddaughter. "And I thought he told you to be a good girl for your mummy?"

"He did," Elizabeth sighed. "And daddy said I should always listen to him."

Sarah raised a brow and Scarlett nodded in confirmation as to what they were thinking. Sherlock had his daughter on a tight leash and they both knew that. Although Sherlock didn't show emotion towards people that often he did show his daughter it in his odd way. Scarlett couldn't fault him as a parent. He was brilliant to Elizabeth and they both knew it. Of course the fact that they were always being assassinated made Scarlett wonder why Sherlock continued his job if he did truly love her and his daughter. No normal father would have done that.

"Why didn't daddy come?" Elizabeth asked as Scarlett stood in the queue to hand in the tickets and board the plane.

"Daddy would have come," Scarlett assured her. "But he's working. And we thought it would be nice for us to all go on a holiday."

"Why isn't Uncle John here?"

"Because he's busy helping your daddy on a case," Sarah said, a part of her held resentment for that small fact.

"Why aren't you at work?" Elizabeth asked and Scarlett wished her daughter wasn't so bright to ask all these questions.

"Because I asked for a holiday," Sarah said. "And so did your mummy."

"Why didn't daddy ask for a holiday?" Elizabeth's large blue eyes looked ahead of her as she continued walking hand in hand with Sarah behind her mother, her eyes focused and concentrating on asking all the right questions.

"Because...he...he just couldn't at this moment in time," Sarah said and began to think about how to answer her goddaughter's questions.

"I don't understand," Elizabeth shook her head and Scarlett handed the tickets over and they moved to the plane. Scarlett took her daughter into her arms and held her tight as they moved down the tunnel. She didn't realise how heavy she had become.

"Your daddy misses you Lizzie," Scarlett assured her. "But he wants you to have a good time, okay?"

"Yes mummy," Elizabeth said. "But why couldn't we go on holiday together? Mary goes with her mummy and daddy."

"Well we can go with daddy later. Okay?"

"Okay."

"You're right," Sarah whispered into Scarlett's ear as she walked beside her. "He's trained her well."

...

"You can't just break in," John hissed at Sherlock as they stood outside the row of London townhouses. Sherlock bent down and picked at the lock after deducting there was nobody at home.

"I've done it multiple times," Sherlock told John.

"And every time you do I tell you that you shouldn't," John replied, rolling his eyes.

"And do I ever learn?"

"Evidentially not," John replied back.

"Well then," Sherlock drawled, "you should stop complaining. You and Sarah really are a perfect match."

"Could you stop insulting my girlfriend," John snapped.

"Soon to be fiancée," Sherlock replied, removing a leather glove whilst John blinked multiple times.

"How...what..."

"Stop babbling," Sherlock snapped. "I have enough of that with my wife. You've recently been quiet and pensive and when you opened your wallet there was a receipt from an expensive jeweller. You wouldn't buy yourself anything expensive like that which means you've finally bought Sarah something. A ring, I'm guessing, which means that you have finally decided to man up and ask her to marry you."

"Correct," John simply sighed.

"I always am," Sherlock spoke lowly and managed to open the door finally, walking in and hitting the switch to light the room up, moving into the kitchen and opening cupboards, apparently searching for something.

"I was going to propose to her tonight," John said.

"Over the phone?" Sherlock cocked a brow at his friend. "Not very fashionable."

"I meant I was going to propose tonight before your lunatic brother decided he wanted to kidnap your daughter," John said. "So quite clearly tonight is not the night to propose."

"Clearly," Sherlock agreed, obviously preoccupied with finding something.

"So what are we looking for?" John asked, his hand running along the worktop surface.

"Yes Sherlock," another voice spoke into the kitchen. "What are you searching for?"

...

A/N: Please do review! Let me know if you have any ideas for future chapters too!


	15. Chapter 15

"Why did you send someone for my daughter Mycroft?" Sherlock delved straight into the question and Mycroft placed his briefcase onto his counter before yawning, tried after a hard day of sitting in his office and scrolling through paperwork on his computer about plans on some form of nuclear bomb. He had heard the same thing multiple times from different countries.

"Did I?" he asked Sherlock who slammed a cabinet door shut and John remained silent, glaring at the elder Holmes whilst Sherlock shook his head.

"Don't play dumb with me," he pleaded with his brother. "I found someone working for you due to your papers. Now, why is Elizabeth of any importance?"

"Is it wrong for a brother to want to meet with his niece? She's doing very well in her class or so I have heard," Mycroft chuckled and Sherlock's eyes narrowed.

"You could have simply called if you wanted to meet with my daughter," Sherlock said.

"I doubt that," Mycroft frowned. "Your wife isn't best pleased with me really. Is she?"

"You did try to have her killed Mycroft," Sherlock informed his brother. "She isn't exactly enthralled with you."

"Don't you think she was being melodramatic slightly?" Mycroft grinned and Sherlock gritted his teeth.

"I think she was being too reasonable. Now tell me what is it you need my daughter for," Sherlock demanded and John stood slightly behind him.

"I thought she could provide me with some information," Mycroft shrugged. "That is all."

"What information?"

"I've never really had you asking me the questions before," Mycroft grinned. "Do you really not know what for?"

"Would I be asking if I knew?"

"You might be playing dumb."

"Can you two stop this trying to enter each other's minds?" John suddenly snapped. "The psychological aspect of it isn't working."

"My brother can't help but want to know my plans," Mycroft chuckled. "And he uses reverse psychology to try and get them."

"I only care about your plans when they involve my daughter," Sherlock repeated. "So tell me why you sent people to come and kidnap her?"

"It wasn't kidnap," he denied and Sherlock snorted.

"I care to disagree."

"I just thought she may have some information she may have heard from you," Mycroft replied. "She could have told me of your cases or something along those lines."

"Ah," Sherlock simply spoke, nodding in understanding. "You think I've been in contact with Miss Adler. Don't you?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," Mycroft shrugged. "And then I wanted your daughter to confirm it for me...and I had other things to tell her."

"Oh!" Sherlock exclaimed. "That was a brilliant plan Mycroft!"

"Can someone please explain what is going on?" John sighed.

"Still two steps behind John?" Mycroft asked and Sherlock snorted, rolling his eyes.

"I'd say three."

"Sherlock!" John snapped. "What is this?"

"Miss Adler recently escaped from prison. I thought nothing of it considering she should be lying low and hiding from the police...but Mycroft here thought I would know where she was and that I would have said something in front of my daughter who would have told him as he needs to get her back...or else he's in trouble, aren't you brother?"

"I could be in bother," Mycroft shrugged, hitting the kettle to turn it onto boil. "But I shan't be."

"And why could you not just ask Sherlock? Why did you need to try and kidnap his daughter?"

"Because he wanted to tell her what a disgrace her mother is, didn't you Mycroft?" Sherlock checked. "You wanted to turn my own daughter against her mother at a young age and control her...you knew that would destroy Scarlett."

"The thought was appealing," Mycroft chuckled. "And it still is."

"And I shall tell you now that if you were to come anywhere near my daughter then I shall make sure you don't again."

"You don't have the power to stop me," Mycroft whispered lowly and deadly. "Scarlett Jenson is trouble. She always has been and always will be. Your daughter shall see that soon."

"She's a Holmes now Mycroft. And Elizabeth won't hear a bad word against her mother."

"She's not a Holmes," Mycroft replied. "Not truly."

"You stay away Mycroft," Sherlock simply warned him. "I mean it."

...

A/N: Please review!


	16. Chapter 16

"We can go back soon Lizzie," Scarlett assured her daughter as they walked around the shops. Sarah was holding onto a few bags which her credit card would hate her for but Scarlett wasn't in the mood for shopping. She only went so that her mind could be distracted as they had to stay away from London and so found themselves in France. Sherlock still hadn't phoned her to let her know it was fine to go back to London and it was the second day away. She hadn't even heard him phone her which worried her. Just the sound of his voice would have been enough.

"When is soon?"

"Soon is soon," Scarlett told her daughter.

"But that is not a specific time," Elizabeth said. "Daddy always gives me a time."

"Does he?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said as she sat on her mother's lap whilst Sarah tried on more clothes and the two of them sat on a plush stool outside the changing room.

"Well we will see him soon," she assured her daughter. "I promise."

"And you wouldn't lie to me," Elizabeth said. "Daddy said he sometimes lies to get out of trouble?"

"Does he?" she cocked a brow.

"Yes," she nodded. "But he said he is allowed to and I'm not to do it."

"You're not," Scarlett said. "And daddy shouldn't lie."

"He said he does it because he is scared of you," Elizabeth said. Scarlett chuckled and stroked her daughter's long blonde hair, smirking as she did so.

"I know."

...

"So you're still reading my blog?" Sherlock checked as a woman sat opposite him. Her hair was a wild colour of red to match her coat and bag as she dropped her cup of coffee in front of her and moved her glasses to the end of her nose.

"I like to know what you're doing," she replied with a shrug. "I've missed many posts of yours by being on the inside."

"I can imagine," Sherlock said in a drawl. "And why did you come?"

"Catch up Sherlock," she chuckled. "Haven't you missed me?"

"Can't say I have," he said back to her.

"Shame." She said with a frown.

"You've changed."

"Well when you escape from prison then you need to adapt to not get caught."

"How did you escape?" Sherlock asked her.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she chuckled, sipping on her drink.

"No. But my brother would," Sherlock said. "And by him not knowing where you are then you are causing me a problem."

"And what would that be?" she raised a brow. "I found out all about how he planned to murder your secretary...you married her, correct?"

"Indeed," Sherlock said lowly.

"Why? We both know you'll get bored of her...I mean...she's not like you-"

"No one is like me," Sherlock interrupted her. "And you'll do well to remember that."

"No need to be so snappy," she chuckled. "Now how is she? Are you enjoying marital bliss?"

"I'm not here to discuss that," Sherlock said firmly.

"I take it a divorce is imminent then?"

"Why did you meet me here?" Sherlock asked her.

"Because you said you needed to talk."

"How did you know it wasn't just a plot to get you here so that I can hand you over to your brother?" Sherlock asked her and she shook her head, taking another sip of her drink.

"No," she said. "You'd never hand me over to him. You hate him."

"You seem sure."

"I am."

"Well you shouldn't be," Sherlock said and raised his hand into the air and clicked. As soon as he did it there were five men with guns who stood up in the small cafe. Irene Adler stood quickly too but she was too slow as two of the men grabbed onto her arms and stopped her from running as Mycroft walked in and the innocent bystanders were ushered out, screaming as they did so. Sherlock sipped on his tea and then stood up, looking Irene in the eye.

"I didn't think you'd do this to me," she told him.

"You don't mean anything to me. My wife and daughter do," Sherlock said and Mycroft motioned for her to be taken away, a look of confusion on her face as she took in his words.

"Very good Sherlock," Mycroft hailed his brother.

"I don't want your praise," Sherlock snapped. "I want your word that you'll leave Scarlett and Elizabeth alone now."

"And would my word mean anything?"

"I'll have it written up by my solicitor then," Sherlock told his brother, slipping his gloves onto his hands.

"You do that," Mycroft said. "But in the mean time you have my word."

"I mean it Mycroft," Sherlock spoke, his voice never rose.

"I know," Mycroft said. "I know. You care for them truly...I never thought you would..."

"Well I do," Sherlock said. "I'll have the documents with you soon."

...

A/N: Please review!


	17. Chapter 17

"And then Aunty Sarah said that she liked the white one much better than the cream one but apparently mummy said that you should get married in white because it is traditional," Elizabeth informed her father as they walked down the pavement together on the way to begin Christmas shopping. Elizabeth was five years old and quite easily the brightest girl in her class. But Sherlock knew she had a secret. It was something which she wasn't telling her parents and Sherlock had to get it out of her even though he had an idea as to what it could be.

"Hmm?" Sherlock checked, not really paying attention to his daughter's mindless conversation as she took hold of his hand after letting go.

"Well mummy said that cream was a nice colour for my dress and then Uncle John said that you have to wear a tie when there is the wedding and then mummy said that you hate ties," she informed her father and he nodded, dragging her into a department store.

"I do," he agreed. "Now what dress did your mother say she liked?"

"The red one in Oasis," Lizzie reeled off. "Why are we shopping?"

"Because we're buying mummy's Christmas presents," Sherlock told her, stepping onto the escalator and she followed suit.

"Doesn't Santa do that?"

"It's Father Christmas Lizzie," Sherlock told her. "And when you reach a certain age he stops buying you presents," he humoured her and her eyes went wide.

"So I won't get any more presents when I'm old?" she seemed disappointed.

"When you're older," Sherlock told her, "then they do stop. But mother and father may buy you some."

"Good," she nodded, "because I like Christmas."

"I'm aware," Sherlock said with a small grin and walked into the Oasis section and began looking around for the red dress.

"Mummy said that you asked to marry her when you were making a bed," Elizabeth said.

"I did," Sherlock nodded.

"Aunty Sarah said that it wasn't very romantic...she said Uncle John took her to dinner and bought her roses...was Mummy disappointed with you?"

"Your mother is never disappointed with me," Sherlock said, searching for the size his wife was in the red dress.

"Mummy said she is. Why didn't you take mummy out?"

"I'll tell you when you're older," Sherlock promised her, not wanting to discuss it in the middle of a shop.

"Why do you always say that?" Elizabeth asked. "I'm five daddy. How old do I have to be?"

"Fifteen," Sherlock grunted and held the dress up, looking at up whilst his daughter' mouth hung open.

"But I'll be really, really old," she complained.

"Then you'll be old enough to know," Sherlock said. "Now let's go pay for this then I may take you for dinner."

...

"Don't chew on your straw Elizabeth," Sherlock told his daughter as she sat on the plush seat opposite him, slurping on her milkshake in the restaurant he had chosen. Sherlock was looking around the room, observing the different people in the room before he looked back at his daughter who was gulping her milkshake down.

"You want to take that slow," he informed her.

"What were you and mummy doing the other night?" she suddenly asked him, resting her hands onto the table and sucking down her straw whilst Sherlock's eyes went wide and he coughed once, running a hand through his hair.

"Now that is a story for when you're older," he told her. "Your mother and I were busy."

"But why was mummy on the table?"

"Lizzie," Sherlock complained. "Your father doesn't lie to you, does he?"

"No."

"Then believe me when I say that this is a conversation for your mother. Not for me," he shrugged off his responsibility and she nodded with a sigh.

"Okay."

"Good. Now how has school been?"

"I don't like school," she told her father.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't," she replied and finished her milkshake.

"Is someone being mean to you?" he asked her and she said nothing and so Sherlock took that as a yes. "Why is someone being mean to you Lizzie?"

"No one is being mean," Elizabeth huffed. "I don't want to tell you."

"You can tell me anything," he assured her.

"I was beaten," she said simply.

"What do you mean you were beaten?"

"She was better than me and I...I didn't like it..."

"Is this anything to do with that Science test you had?" he asked her and she nodded. "And someone beat you?"

"She got two more marks then me and I hated it...I felt bad..." Elizabeth told her father and he chuckled and she looked at him.

"What is funny?"

"Nothing...your mother was right..."

...

Please review!


	18. Chapter 18

"She was asking what we were doing the other night," Sherlock informed Scarlett as he sat himself down on the sofa next to her and she yawned lightly, nestling into his side as he held up his book on chemicals and experiments of some kind.

"Hmm?" she asked him, holding the remote to the TV in her hand as she mindlessly flicked through channels after Elizabeth had been put to bed by her father who had been made to read her a story about some fair princess. He had to change it slightly so that his mind didn't wander off and so he had told her that the princess and the evil wizard hadn't been fighting over the castle of Annina but they had been fighting over a new chemical which could bring about the end of the world. Elizabeth didn't look too impressed but Sherlock had assured her that the chemical would never be discovered.

"You know," Sherlock said, "the other night when you were on the kitchen table."

"What did you say to her?" Scarlett asked him and he shrugged.

"I told her that her mother tempted me into sleeping with her because she's always desperate for me," Sherlock told his wife and she snatched the book from his hold, slamming it shut and looking at her husband with seriousness in her face.

"This isn't funny Sherlock," she told him. "Whatever possessed us to almost do it in the kitchen?"

"You said it was the one place we had yet to really-"

"Sherlock," she warned him and he grinned his classic grin at her before chuckling and grabbing his book back from her hold.

"She doesn't know what happened, Scarlett," Sherlock told her. "I didn't say anything to her."

"So how did you get her to stop asking questions?"

"I told her that you would tell her when she's older," Sherlock said and opened his book, resting his arm on the arm of the sofa whilst Scarlett groaned into his shoulder.

"Why did you shrug it off onto me?" she asked him.

"Because you're her mother," he told her.

"But you're her father."

"It's more of a discussion for you to have I believe," Sherlock said.

"But I'll just blather on about it like an idiot and confuse her more. At least when you tell her then you have all the biological facts to help you," Scarlett informed him and he snorted.

"I doubt she would even understand what I'd mean," Sherlock told her. "Anyway, you can deal with that area and I shall take responsibility in making sure she ends up at Oxford."

"So you don't want any say on who she dates?" Scarlett raised a brow and Sherlock looked down at her with narrowed eyes.

"Do you think I'm going to allow her to date?" Sherlock asked and Scarlett shrugged.

"You don't really have a say," she spoke back to him and he ran a hand through his curly hair.

"You can watch me have a say."

...

"I don't particularly want to go shopping," Elizabeth told her mother as they walked along the crowded streets of London on Christmas Eve and Scarlett cocked a brow as she held her daughter's hand tightly as well as juggling bags on her arm.

"You need to find daddy a present though Liz," Scarlett told her daughter, pulling her into Topman and getting away from the hustle and bustle of London. Elizabeth trudged around in her pink wellies and black winter coat by her mother's side as Scarlett panicked.

"Daddy said that he knew you wouldn't have done the Christmas shopping," Elizabeth told her mother. "He said that I wasn't supposed to tell you what he told me."

"What did he say Elizabeth?" Scarlett asked, walking over to the scarf and suit section with Elizabeth looking down at the floor as they passed other women with husbands and boyfriends.

"He said I couldn't say."

"If I promise I won't tell him you told me and I buy you a cake on the way back will you tell me?"

"He said that he didn't tell you what he wanted so that he could do his shopping first and look more organised than mummy," Elizabeth blurted out, happy with the mention of a cake.

"Did he?" Scarlett checked. "Well if daddy is going to be naughty like that then maybe Santa won't come for him."

"It's Father Christmas," Elizabeth replied. "And daddy said he stops coming for adults. But he said I still get presents."

"As long as you leave Father Christmas a mince pie and sherry. And Rudolph needs a carrot," Scarlett told her daughter, picking out the shirt and scarf she had seen earlier in the week.

"He can have my carrot," Elizabeth simply said. "I don't want it."

...

"Sherlock!" Scarlett hissed when she walked back down the steps from her daughter's room on the third floor and saw her husband stood there with a mince pie in his mouth.

"What?" he asked her and she shut the living room door.

"That mince pie was for Santa," she told her husband. "Elizabeth left it down for him."

"She's gone to bed. She won't know," Sherlock shrugged and finished off the pie.

"But what if she comes back down?" Scarlett asked.

"Then we tell her the truth."

"I'm not dashing a little girl's belief Sherlock," Scarlett said, walking into the kitchen and fetching another mince pie from the tin she had baked.

"Fine," Sherlock replied. "I won't eat Santa's mince pie...and I won't even touch Rudolph's carrot...they really are ghastly things."

...

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! Leave me your thoughts!


	19. Chapter 19

"We shouldn't be too long," Scarlett informed Sarah on the cold January evening of Elizabeth's first parents evening.

"Take as much time as you need," Sarah shrugged and looked back into the living room where John was sat at his work desk with Elizabeth next to him, the two of them reciting their two times tables whilst Sherlock, Scarlett and Sarah stood near the front door.

"In that case I was thinking we should go out for dinner after," Sherlock told his wife and she shook her head.

"Elizabeth will want tea too Sherlock," she said.

"And I'm sure good old Aunty Sarah may provide her with some of that," Sherlock said and cocked a brow in Sarah's direction.

"Well I think I can manage to do that for my goddaughter," she said and Sherlock nodded, slipping his leather gloves onto his hands and clapping once as he did so.

"Sorted," he said. "But don't be feeding her any of that lasagne which you make. John has informed me that he wouldn't give it to a dog."

...

"And why can't you just get along with Sarah?" Scarlett asked Sherlock as they walked down the empty corridor of the primary school to where Elizabeth's class was. Sherlock held his head high and looked at other parent's as he moved past them, deducing some were clearly divorced or some were in the process of one. Others seemed happy but he established one man was cheating on his wife, all because he kept on turning his wedding ring. Scarlett held her hand in Sherlock's arm as they finally stood outside the classroom, waiting for the teacher to finish with the other parents inside.

"Because she is quite annoying and we just don't have the same ideas and so can't agree on things, hence why arguments are formed," Sherlock told his wife and she rolled her eyes.

"I wish you would get on with her for Lizzie's sake."

"Elizabeth knows that Sarah and I aren't best friends. It doesn't seem to be doing much in dampening her spirit," Sherlock promised his wife.

"And why do we need to go out for dinner?"

"When was the last time we did anything alone?" Sherlock asked her as she moved from one foot to another, her heels becoming an irritant after a long day at work.

"Well..." she struggled to find an answer. "I suppose it has been a long time."

"Too long," Sherlock informed her. "And if we skip starters and desert then we can maybe go back to the flat for a little bit."

"Maybe," Scarlett grinned before the door opened and the teacher ushered them in. The woman was tall with long brown hair which was pulled into a ponytail. She looked quite young but she had a kind face and a very warm smile. She seemed bubbly which enough to deter Sherlock from her.

"Mr and Mrs Holmes," she shook their hands and they sat down at her desk as she took a seat too. "Elizabeth is a very bright young girl...one of the brightest in the class if not the brightest."

Scarlett and Sherlock remained quiet, neither one of them knowing quite what to say to this fact and so the teacher continued.

"She's getting along very well in English and Math and her scientific knowledge is exceptional...way beyond the learning ability of someone of her age group. And her reading is superb...she went to pick out a 'Harry Potter' book the other day which is quite advanced."

Sherlock allowed a sly glance over to his wife, knowing that they were her favourite book and she must have trained Elizabeth well in that area.

"But she does seem to be struggling."

"What with?" Scarlett finally managed to speak, concern entering her voice as Sherlock looked on intently.

"She seems to not have many friends...recently she has seemed slightly distant..."

"Why?" Scarlett wondered and not to anyone in general.

"I don't know," the teacher spoke. "I was wondering if there was anything at home."

"Are you suggesting we don't look after her?" Sherlock asked.

"Sherlock," Scarlett hissed. "I'm sure she wasn't suggesting anything of the kind."

"Good," Sherlock said and the teacher looked at the pair of them.

"Anyway," she said. "If you could have a word with Elizabeth then that would be brilliant...I don't want her feeling too isolated so that she ends up alone."

"We will," Scarlett promised and they stood up, shaking hands again before leaving the class.

"So the five minutes alone are out the question?" Sherlock grunted.

...

"I thought it was my bed time?" Elizabeth asked when she was washed and in her pyjamas and sat on her bed in her cream coloured room. Scarlett nodded, sitting down on the floor and resting her arms on the bed whilst Sherlock remained sat at the end of it.

"It is," she said. "But we need to ask you something first."

"I've done all my homework," she promised and Sherlock nodded.

"That's not it Lizzie," he told her. "Is everything okay at school?"

"Yes," she said simply. "I like school. Today I managed to explain all the planets."

"That's brilliant sweetie," Scarlett said. "And are you sure it's okay? You still have lots of friends?"

"I have some friends," Elizabeth shrugged. "And they're nice. But everyone else doesn't speak to me."

"Why don't you speak to them?" Scarlett wondered.

"Because I don't want to. I have some friends and I like them...I don't want any more friends," she said.

"Are you sure?" Scarlett checked. "Because we don't want you to be unhappy."

"I'm sure," Elizabeth promised. "Can I go to bed now?"

"Alright darling," Scarlett replied and helped her into bed, kissing her on the forehead before Sherlock switched the light out and they shut her door, moving down the steps to the living room.

"Do you think she's alright?" Scarlett checked with her husband.

"I think she's fine," Sherlock said. "I knew she was telling the truth. I read her body language."


	20. Chapter 20

"Why are we going out?" the eight year Elizabeth asked her father as she shrugged into her coat and placed her gloves onto her hands whilst Sherlock did up the legendary grey coat he always wore, although it was a new one this year thanks to his wife who insisted on buying him a new winter coat each year.

"Because we need to go and help my boss," Sherlock told her and she looked up to him awkwardly.

"Why?" she asked. "You help the police and that's it. Why do I need to come?"

"Because your mother is at work and I don't help the police. I basically do their job for them," he told her, his voice low and full of the fake sound of annoyance. Elizabeth nodded and took hold of Sherlock's hand before he said anything more and he walked her out of 221B Baker Street.

"Mum said she doesn't like you taking me to work with you," Elizabeth informed her father. "I think she gets annoyed a bit."

"I'm sure she gets annoyed," Sherlock clarified. "But it is irrelevant Elizabeth. You're too young to stay on your own."

"I think I'm old enough," she jutted her chin out as Sherlock hailed a cab.

"Of course you are," he said with a light chuckle. She had been thinking she was old enough for a long time and Sherlock could see the maturity in her eyes as she spoke. But she was only an eight year old.

"And why couldn't I stay with Mrs Hudson?"

"Because Mrs Hudson is getting old now Lizzie," Sherlock told her. "You should be looking after. Not her looking after you."

"I can do that," Elizabeth said. "I made mum toast and brought her tissues when she was ill."

"I am aware," Sherlock said. "Now get into the cab and be a good girl, okay?"

"I'm always a good girl," she smiled nicely at her father before hopping into the taxi and Sherlock followed her, sitting beside her as she rested her head onto his arm. He stiffened slightly at her sudden contact and then relaxed, realising it was his daughter he was around and not some common stranger.

"Brigg Street," Sherlock demanded and the cab drove off.

"I heard you and mum talking last night," she informed Sherlock.

"Oh?" he asked. "What were we talking about?"

"Someone called Rose," she said and Sherlock drew a sharp intake of breath as she moved her head and looked up at her father who was staring straight ahead of himself.

"Can you take a diversion onto Carlton Street," he demanded the cab driver who saluted and began to move the cab in the opposite direction as to where Sherlock was supposed to be.

"Where are we going now?" Elizabeth asked her father.

"You will see," he told her. "Your mother and I...well...I shall tell you what happened."

"Is it something bad?" Elizabeth asked. "Are you in trouble again?"

"No," Sherlock drawled. "I'm not in trouble and yes, it is something bad."

"What is it?" she continued to push him and Sherlock shook his head.

"I will tell you later on."

...

"Why are we in a graveyard?" Lizzie wondered and she took the consulting detective's hand as he led her almost unconsciously down the rows of graves to where she was buried.

"Before you were born your mother and I had another baby," he informed her.

"I have a sister or brother?" she asked and Sherlock pursed his lips, thinking for a moment.

"You have an older sister," he nodded. "But before she was born your mother wasn't very well...the baby died..." Sherlock said and looked down at Elizabeth who was thinking as they stopped in front of a grave and she looked at her father.

"Mum had a miscarriage?" she asked and Sherlock nodded.

"How do you know what one of those is?"

"You left a human anatomy book lying around," she said as if it were obvious. Sherlock nodded once and continued;

"We buried her here," Sherlock nodded at the gravestone in front of them which read;

_Here lies Rose Elizabeth Holmes-Jenson_

_Beloved daughter_

_She will be missed dearly._

"She has my name," Elizabeth said and Sherlock nodded.

"She does. And she also has your mother's middle name."

"Rose?" Elizabeth checked and Sherlock nodded once again.

"Why is she called Holmes-Jenson?" Elizabeth pondered aloud and Sherlock looked at the grave where a fresh bouquet of flowers laid. Scarlett must have been sometime in the last week after work. Sherlock came as often as he could, but neither of them had mentioned her to Elizabeth, not really knowing how to do so. They knew she was old enough and she should know that she had a sister, but it was something they didn't speak about to her.

"Your mother and I were not married when she was born. Your mother's last name was Jenson and so we allowed her to have both last names," Sherlock explained.

"What did she look like?" Elizabeth asked.

"I don't know," Sherlock said. "We lost her early on into the pregnancy..."

"That must have been horrible," Lizzie whispered.

"It was," Sherlock agreed. "But we like to think that she is in a better place now."

"Is she in heaven?"

"I think so," Sherlock nodded.

"Will I meet her one day?"

"One day...but not yet Lizzie," Sherlock said, picking her up and holding her by his side, kissing her on the top of her head, "not yet."


	21. Chapter 21

"You told Elizabeth?" Scarlett checked when her husband came home. He had delivered her off to a friend's house to play princesses or something along the lines of that dull imaginary stuff.

"I had no choice," Sherlock said. "She was asking who Rose was and I thought it would be time to tell her. She is growing up and she is very mature for her age."

"I know," Scarlett nodded, continuing to tidy up her husband's mess. You would have thought that Elizabeth would be the one to make a mess but it was Sherlock instead. He was constantly leaving things lying around whereas the youngest Holmes was tidy and clean, just like her mother.

"And she handled it very well...she asked when she could go and see her," Sherlock continued speaking, removing his scarf and hanging it onto the coat stand whilst Scarlett kicked her shoes off her feet and placed them under the stand.

"What did you say to that?" she wondered.

"I told her that she could visit Rose in a long time. I meant she could visit her when she's dead but I didn't say it to her in those precise words," Sherlock informed her and Scarlett rolled her eyes.

"I'm glad you didn't. She's changed you," Scarlett said. "You're not as brash as you were."

"Only around her," Sherlock said dryly. "With everyone else I shall speak what I think."

"I'm aware. Now," Scarlett huffed, "Sarah and John's wedding is imminent-"

"-After an extremely long engagement," Sherlock drawled. "What a waste of time."

"They wanted to make everything perfect-"

"-She wanted to make everything perfect. Do you think John really cares?"

"Regardless," Scarlett said, "she's...she asked me...well...she wants you to do a speech..."

"No," Sherlock said, his voice full of authority as Scarlett clapped her hands together.

"That's what I told her. But she's adamant, saying that you've known John for a long time and it is a tradition for the best man to make a speech."

"It was a tradition for the bride not to sleep with the groom before the marriage," Sherlock said. "Tradition can be broken for the greater good."

"And you're sure you're not going to change your mind?" she asked him and he raised a brow at her. Pushing her blonde hair from her face and shaking her head she moved into the kitchen to prepare cooking the tea.

"Is that it?" Sherlock wondered aloud, leaning in the doorway, his arms folded as she cut up vegetables.

"What do you mean?" she asked him.

"Well normally you go all authoritative on me when I'm asked to do something but I don't," he told her and she shrugged.

"We've been married for too long Sherlock," she chuckled, "I know when I have a lost cause."

"No you don't," Sherlock replied. "You always nag me. It is just what you do...why the sudden change now?"

"Because speaking in public isn't your thing?" she said to him. "I'm not going to make you do something which you don't want to."

"You made me tidy up the other week," he told her. "Something is going on Scarlett. Don't even deny it."

"I'm tired," she simply shrugged, dropping the knife down onto the chopping board, her hands resting beside it as she bowed her head and closed her eyes. "I'm too tired to argue with you."

"Well," Sherlock drawled, "maybe you should take a rest."

"I can't," she whispered. "I need to do stuff to keep my mind occupied."

"Why?" he asked her. "You would only need to keep your mind occupied if there was something big going on. And considering you haven't mentioned anything to me then that cannot be the case."

Scarlett looked over at him with wide eyes as he cocked a brow, seeing how she bit her lip in nervousness. Slowly, he made his way over to her, his eyebrows raised as he leaned his back against the counter beside her.

"You're keeping something from me," he told her. "Now what is it?"

"It's nothing," she told him. "I'm probably overreacting."

"I'm not patient Scarlett," Sherlock complained. "Now tell me what is going on."

"I don't know how," she replied.

"Yes you do," he simply said back to her.

"I've missed my period," she blurted out. "I'm three weeks late."

"You...you could be..." he stammered, unsure of what to say to her. She shrugged awkwardly at him.

"I don't know. I could be pregnant."


	22. Chapter 22

"Pregnant," Sherlock muttered. "This is déjà vu."

"Don't start Sherlock," Scarlett whispered as they walked down Baker Street to the nearest Chemist. Elizabeth was staying over at her friend's house that night after they had discovered they didn't want to be apart when they were having so much fun. Sherlock had stuffed both his hands into his jacket pocket but Scarlett had pulled one out and stuffed it into her hand. Sherlock had allowed her to do so, sensing her nervousness and not wanting to annoy her when he could tell she was stressed.

"Do you want another child?" Sherlock asked her and Scarlett shrugged.

"It isn't something which I had thought about," she replied. "Elizabeth takes up a lot of my time and I thought you would just be happy with one child...I mean...it isn't like I've missed my period..."

"Excuse me?" Sherlock asked her. "You're confusing me now."

"Before then I had been suffering with irregular bleeding and then it just stopped," Scarlett shrugged and Sherlock looked at her with a cocked brow.

"You can sometimes tell me far too much information."

"Shut up," she rolled her eyes. "I've been stressed so maybe that is it? Maybe I'm not pregnant."

"We shall soon know," Sherlock said and they walked into the chemist. They had to be the most confused looking couple buying a pregnancy test in that entire shop's life. Sherlock remained straight faced and Scarlett just bit her lip as she purchased the goods and they practically ran back to Baker Street.

"Go and do your business then," Sherlock told her, ushering her into the bathroom before he put the kettle on and began to make himself a pot of tea, unable to stop thinking about what his wife was doing. Did he want another child? He didn't think he did but he didn't really want Elizabeth. Now she was the only child he could stand to be around. He loved her deeply. Scarlett walked out as Sherlock sat in the living room, his hands around his mug as he looked at his wife.

"Well?" he asked her.

"No," she shook her head. "It came back negative."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Is that what you wanted?" Sherlock asked her.

"I don't know what I wanted."

...

Scarlett knew there was something wrong with her. She tried her best to conceal the fact that she often spent far too long in the bathroom and a long time in bed. She had become sloppy and was constantly tired when she came home from work. She did her best to be active for Elizabeth and keep her daughter happy and in a nice home. Yet, it was hard when her husband was hurtling around London trying to keep himself entertained by risking his life. Scarlett sighed once on a Wednesday evening as she climbed into a cab after making Sherlock stay at home with Lizzie. She had told him that she needed to go to work that evening for an important meeting to make notes on. Sherlock knew better. If she knew him then she would know that he knew. Sherlock had noticed her weight loss and her lack of appetite. He had taken in the way she had slept for hours upon end and he also taken in how she spent far too long in the bathroom and didn't want conversation. He didn't press her on the subject, knowing she would tell him in her own time. The two of them were not a couple which lived in each other's pockets. Sherlock had seen the letter from the hospital telling Scarlett she needed to go in that Wednesday evening but he had not pressed her about it. He knew something was wrong and he knew she would tell him when she was ready.

...

"How was your meeting?" Sherlock asked when Scarlett walked back into the apartment and she nodded, forcing a smile onto her face and sniffing once.

"Good," she nodded. "Really good."

"Was it?" he asked her, pushing his laptop to the side. "What happened?"

"Just boring business stuff," she told him, pouring tea into a pot and heating water. "Nothing interesting."

"You can tell me," he told her. "I try to take an interest in your life."

"It was dull Sherlock," she said, her back to him. "Honestly."

"Scarlett," Sherlock sighed once. "I know."

She turned to look at him and only then did she begin to cry and Sherlock rushed over to her and she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tightly.

"When were you going to tell me?" he whispered to her harshly and she sniffed.

"I was..." she cried. "I didn't...want anyone to know..."

"I'm your husband Scarlett," he replied sternly but also lovingly. "I've known something was going on for weeks."

"I'm sorry," she told him. "I just didn't know what to do."

"You tell me," he spoke. "You can tell me anything."

"It's not good Sherlock...none of it..."

"What is it Scarlett?"

"I have cancer," she whispered, pulling back to look at him. "I have cancer."


	23. Chapter 23

"It is at stage three cervical cancer," Scarlett whispered as she sat in Sherlock's lap. Her head was resting against his shoulder and her hands were in her lap, holding onto his as he remained straight faced. He felt as though they had been sat there for hours and he had yet to be able to make himself cry. He had held her as she sobbed and he felt as though he should be doing the same. He felt as though he should be crying and begging for it not to be true. But he couldn't bring himself to do it out loud for he would feel weak and that was not something he needed when his wife was ill.

"I'm unfamiliar with what that requires treatment wise," he whispered into her ear and she nodded.

"I have to have chemotherapy," she told him. "They're starting me on it in two days."

"Why can they not start now?" Sherlock asked. "Do they not realise that you're my wife?"

"There are other women who are wives too Sherlock. We are nothing special," she told him simply and he shook his head.

"I disagree," he said.

"It gets worse," she replied. "The chances of me...recovering from this-"

"You will recover," Sherlock told her simply. "You're my wife and you will recover."

"Listen to me," Scarlett pleaded. "The chances of a complete cure are low...but they can do everything they can to make sure I have a longer life span."

"The chances are low," Sherlock simply said. "It doesn't mean that they are impossible."

"I know that," she told him.

"Good," Sherlock said. "Because I am not losing you to this...I can't lose you to this."

...

"Sherlock," a voice drawled as the younger Holmes opened the door to his brother's office. Mycroft Holmes sat in his chair, a pen in his hand and a cup of tea to one side of him. It made Sherlock feel slightly ill that this was the brother who had tried to ruin his life with Scarlett. But Sherlock was desperate and his brother owed him.

"I need you to do something for me," Sherlock said quickly, shutting the door as he did.

"You don't mess around, do you Sherlock?" Mycroft chuckled and he rested his hands on top of his desk and he looked at his brother.

"When it comes to you I prefer to not be here," Sherlock drawled and remained stood in front of the desk.

"What can I do for you?" Mycroft asked.

"I need some money," Sherlock spoke.

"And you've come to me?"

"You're my last chance," Sherlock said. "Believe me when I say that."

"I'm hurt."

"I fail to care."

"How loving."

"I'm not here to speak of emotions," Sherlock snapped. "I need to know if you will give me the money."

"Why do you need it?"

"It is none of your concern," Sherlock replied.

"I think it is if you want it," Mycroft replied.

Sherlock sighed once, cursing his brother in his head before he began to tell him.

"Scarlett has cancer," he said and Mycroft nodded.

"Stage three, am I correct?" he asked and Sherlock frowned.

"So you're still keeping tabs on us?" Sherlock checked and Mycroft chuckled.

"Of course," he said. "I always like to know what my brother is up to."

"Charming," Sherlock drawled. "An answer would be nice."

"And this money would go towards private healthcare I assume?" Mycroft asked and Sherlock nodded.

"I spoke to a consultant today. They can speed her treatment up and try to eliminate it quicker," he said.

"And does Scarlett know of you being here?"

"What do you think?" Sherlock replied and they shared a knowing look.

"You do realise that I dislike her?" Mycroft checked and Sherlock nodded.

"And she dislikes you also."

"Excellent," Mycroft nodded. "I shall have the money in your bank in another hour."

...

"I can't believe you went to Mycroft!" Scarlett snapped. "Did it slip your mind that he tried to kill me then have me deported?"

"Nothing ever slips my mind," Sherlock told her, placing a hand on the small of her back as he led her into the private clinic and she huffed. "I went to him because I needed to do this. I need to get you better...I can't lose you Scarlett."

"I still don't like that you went to him," she replied and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Stop focusing on that and start focusing on trying to make yourself better."

...

"Stop cleaning up!" Sherlock snapped at Scarlett as Elizabeth sat on the floor at the coffee table doing work. Scarlett shook her head as her limbs began to droop and she yawned whilst Sherlock snatched the duster from her and looked at her.

"You're exhausted," he stated and looked at her pale face. The first dose of chemo had knocked her completely off her feet. In fact, the whole illness had shaken her. She no longer made an effort to look radiant in the morning and she no longer spent hours in front of her wardrobe. She had told work she needed time off and they were happy to oblige. It seemed everyone knew of her illness but her daughter.

"I'm fine," Scarlett whispered back.

"No you're not," Sherlock said. "You need rest."

"I'm not tired," she lied and Sherlock shook his head, wrapping an arm around her waist and steering her off into their bedroom.

"Lizzie knows something is wrong," Sherlock whispered as he unbuttoned Scarlett's shirt and she shook her head, undoing the zip to her jeans.

"I don't know how to tell her," Scarlett replied. "I can't tell her."

"She's seen you crying the last few mornings and what will you say to her when your hair falls out?" Sherlock asked and saw tears well up Scarlett's eyes. "Sorry. That was insensitive."

"You make a good point," Scarlett shook her head, allowing Sherlock to help her into her pyjamas. "I just don't know what to say."

"You have to tell her the truth," Sherlock said. "She needs to know."

"I know she does...but we'll tell her together, okay?"

"Whatever you want."

...

A/N: Thank you to BookyGurl, Cookie05, Astra-The-Goddess and Che for reviewing! More to come soon so please let me know what you think!


	24. Chapter 24

"It is alright," Sherlock told Scarlett as he held her hair back and she threw up violently into the toilet. Sherlock shook his head, his hand holding onto his chin and his face completely pale as he watched the woman he married break down in front of him. She was crying loudly and her face was full of panic and paleness.

"Sherlock," Scarlett panted, "I feel crap."

"I know," he simply said. "The medication shall do that to you for a while."

"I can't do it Sherlock," Scarlett said managing to stand up and allowing Sherlock to help her.

"Yes you can," he told her and she allowed her body to rest against his, the feel of his blue silken pyjamas nice on her cheek.

"It hurts," she complained. "It hurts so much."

"You'll be fine," he simply said. "You have to be."

"I don't know," she said. "I feel really tired."

"We'll get you back to bed and let you rest. It will be fine...trust me...I know best."

"I hope you're right."

...

"Why isn't mummy taking me to school?" Elizabeth asked Sherlock as he continued to check his watch as he attempted to make her pack up. He spread the butter on her sandwich quickly as she packed her books into her bag and he slapped some ham into the dry break, managing to cut it in two and folding it into Clingfilm. One side of the sandwich was larger than the over and it was little to be desired. Sherlock placed it into her lunchbox and dropped a banana in with a yoghurt and handed it to his daughter.

"Your mother isn't feeling well," Sherlock simply said. "She's in bed."

Scarlett had been in bed all night and even when Sherlock had moved she hadn't stirred. He had been doing everything in his power to make life easier for her but he was finding it hard. He didn't know how she managed to juggle around cleaning up and looking after Scarlett along with going to work. He didn't know how hard she had it.

"Mummy has been weird the last few days," Elizabeth simply said. "When will she get better?"

"Soon Lizzie," Sherlock said, ruffling her hair. "Soon."

...

"How are you feeling?" John asked when he entered the 221B flat and saw Scarlett laid in bed again.

"It could be worse," she simply shrugged and John shook his head.

"I doubt that," he told her. "Sherlock told me that you haven't been eating."

"I have been eating but then I throw it back up."

"That doesn't mean you have to stop eating," John told her. "Sarah and I are worried about you."

"I know," Scarlett said. "But it is Sherlock I'm worried for."

"Why?"

"If...if I don't make it..."

"Don't talk like that," John said quickly, shaking his head.

"I'm serious John," Scarlett said. "What would he do? And Lizzie..." Scarlett sobbed.

John sat on the bed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"You're not going anywhere Scarlett...you have to believe that."

...

"You're up," Sherlock said as he dropped Elizabeth's hand once they were in the flat from picking her up from school.

"I had to be awake to see my little Liz, didn't I?" Scarlett said and Elizabeth rushed over to her mother and sat next to her, nestling into her side. Scarlett winced slightly, still fragile as she looked at Sherlock and nodded.

"Are you feeling better?" Elizabeth asked her mother.

"No sweetheart," Scarlett said. "Mummy is seriously ill."

"Oh," Elizabeth said. "What's wrong?"

"Scarlett..." Sherlock simply said and she shook her head.

"It's fine," she said and Sherlock remained stood up near the fireplace, his eyes looking onto his bookshelf.

"Your mother has an illness Elizabeth," she told Liz. "It is something called cancer."

"Cancer?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes darling," Scarlett said. "It is very serious and it is what is making me tired and be ill."

"I've heard of cancer," Elizabeth whispered. "Someone's mummy had it...and she died...but you won't...will you mummy?"

"Elizabeth," Scarlett sighed, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "I don't know...I'm taking horrible medicine to get better...but it might not work..."

"I don't want you to die mummy," Elizabeth wailed, her arms wrapping around Scarlett's neck as she held her tightly.

"I don't want to sweetie," Scarlett replied and sniffed loudly. "And I may not. I'm trying to get really better...but there will be sometimes when I'm tired...and can't be with you as much..."

"I'll look after you," Elizabeth cried. "I will make you cups of hot chocolate and you can have my teddy for good luck."

"Thank you darling," Scarlett said. "But your daddy is going to look after you, okay? You and your daddy will be fine."

"Okay mummy," Elizabeth nodded and she jumped off from Scarlett's knee. "I will go and fetch you teddy."

"Okay honey," Scarlett forced a smile onto her face as Lizzie ran off and she looked at Sherlock and he shook his head simply.

"That was brave," he simply whispered.

"It was the worst thing I've ever had to do," Scarlett whispered. "Look after her Sherlock...look after our little girl."


	25. Chapter 25

"Sherlock Holmes," Scarlett Holmes stated as she stood in front of the desk. She was looking frail and was annoyed. She was never too tired to be annoyed with her husband. The man behind the desk began clicking on his computer as she leant against the desk, unable to stand on her own and hold all of her weight. She had been forced to gain a taxi down to the station all so that she could sign on a piece of paper.

"I need you to place your signature at the bottom here ma'am," he told her. "It basically says that you intend to keep your husband at your address and that he won't live anywhere else."

"Fine," Scarlett replied curtly and she scribbled onto the bottom of the paper.

"If you'd like to take a seat I will be back in a moment," the man spoke and Scarlett managed to nod at him, slowly moving over to a seat and falling into it. She crossed her legs and ran a hand through her hair, only to feel it as if it was lose. She pulled something from her head and it was her blonde locks. They had fallen out easily. Trying not to cry, she dealt with the situation with extreme haste before she saw Sherlock snatching his jacket from the officer who had escorted him out.

"Scarlett, I-"

"- Save it," she hissed at him, standing up and moving over to the door. Sherlock managed to quickly catch up with her as she moved through the small courtyard and onto the main street.

"You know," Scarlett turned to face him, "I thought that you may have helped me."

"It was a misunderstanding," Sherlock told her. "The police had no right to do that."

"You're on bail Sherlock!" she snapped at him. "This isn't alright!"

"Unlawful bail," he pointed out, playing on his phone for a moment.

"What are you doing?" Scarlett asked him.

"Texting Lestrade," he muttered. "I know something about the case."

Scarlett bit the inside of her cheek before she moved her hand, swatting the phone from Sherlock so that it hit the ground, breaking apart. The consulting detective looked up at her as he picked it up again.

"What was that for?" he asked her.

"Do you know what it is like being married to you?" she snapped at him. "Do you know how I feel?"

"Of course," he told her.

"Without reading me," she replied. "You haven't once asked how I feel. I'm dying...and I'm fed up...and you expect me to come down to this place when I can barely move from bed all so that I can help save you from your crazy antics?"

"Scarlett-"

"-No," she replied quickly. "I can't deal with this anymore...I know the case comes first...I always have known...but I had hoped that maybe you'd find your dying wife more important than socialising with corpses."

"I'm trying to help," Sherlock told her and she wiped a tear away.

"Do you know what last night was?" she asked him.

"I've been in a police cell since last night Scarlett," he told her as if it was a good excuse.

"It was your daughter's parents evening," she told him and he closed his eyes, looking genuinely hurt as he scratched his cheek.

"Your own daughter..." Scarlett shook her head as she hailed a taxi and Sherlock opened the door.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked her as she sat in the seat and refused to move up for him.

"I'm going home," she told him. "You're staying out of my way for the rest of the day because if I see you again then I'll do something I may regret."

"Don't be silly."

"I'm being sensible," she snapped back at him.

"Scarlett...your hair..." Sherlock simply said when he saw her move her hand through her blonde curls and a lump fell out.

"That would be the illness," she told him as she began to shut the door. "The thing which comes after your case."

...

"Where is Elizabeth?" Scarlett asked when she saw Sherlock walk into the flat.

"I took her to John's and Sarah's for a bit...we need to talk," Sherlock told her simply as he held the flowers in his hand and Scarlett snorted once.

"And do you really think that flowers are going to solve this?" she snapped at him and he looked at them and then back at her.

"I thought that flowers made women forgive?" he said. "John told me that."

"Well they're not going to solve this," Scarlett snapped back.

"What will solve this?" Sherlock asked, throwing the flowers onto the coffee table as Scarlett remained sat on his sofa.

"I don't know," she said. "You could start by saying sorry."

"I didn't mean to get arrested," Sherlock told her. "And I didn't phone you last night because I knew you'd be tired."

"How considerate," she drawled.

"I thought so," Sherlock said seriously.

"Your text simply just said you were busy on the case and that you may not be back for the night."

"I didn't technically lie," Sherlock responded. "I know you're ill Scarlett."

"Oh good," she rolled her eyes.

"But do you want to know how I feel?" Sherlock asked her. "Do you want to know why I've been running around London?"

She remained silent and Sherlock simply continued.

"Being here with you is a constant reminder that I could lose you any day and it is something I am powerless about," Sherlock told her, his voice hoarse and his hands shaking as he spoke. "I need the case to take my mind off of that fact...I need to think of something else...preoccupy myself with something other than my thoughts. If I stay here with you all the time then I'd go mad Scarlett. I know I may not seem caring by leaving but time to myself is something I need. The thought of losing you is something which I can't handle because I may not show it...but I care for you...and then there is Lizzie...Scarlett...our daughter...I can't look after her without you...I'm a terrible father without you..."

"Sherlock," Scarlett simply said as she saw something wet form in the corner of his eye. She looked up at him and stood up, her arms wrapping around his neck as he held her around the waist, his head burying itself into her shoulder as his body shook.

...

A/N: I know I may have been neglecting this story for a while and so I am trying to update often. But that may be difficult as time goes on and exams loom but I do hope you are enjoying it and let me know what you think. Any thoughts or future ideas are welcome!


	26. Chapter 26

"When are you going for treatment next?" Sherlock asked Scarlett as he lay on the sofa, his head resting against her shoulder and his body sprawled out as she remained sat up with her legs crossed and her arms going across her husband's shoulders, her hands resting on his stomach as his own hands played with the engagement ring and wedding ring on her fingers.

"I booked myself in for Wednesday," she whispered. Sherlock had been sobbing for a good five minutes before he excused himself to use the bathroom and he had changed into his pyjamas and then remained with his wife, crying silently as she ran her fingers through his hair.

"I'll come with you," Sherlock simply told her. "I'll drop Lizzie off at Sarah's and John's."

"You don't need to," Scarlett told him simply and he shook his head.

"I need to go," he said. "I need to be there. I was also going to ask what you want to do about your hair."

"Sherlock...I...I brought a wig as soon as I knew it could fall out. It's in my wardrobe but I just didn't want to use it until I had to. It's so stupid...one of the first things I thought about was buying a wig...so vain."

"It's not vain," Sherlock told her. "You are a human."

"I wish I wasn't sometimes then," Scarlett simply repeated.

"No you don't," Sherlock simply told her, "because then you wouldn't feel anything and I assure you that is not nice. I was there once."

...

Sherlock sat up and saw that Scarlett had dozed off as to be expected. He sat up and gently held her in his arms as he took her to the bedroom, placing her fragile body under the covers and she not once stirred. Sherlock looked down onto her and thought of the first time he had seen her sleeping. She had been fragile and in a mess back then and he had sat there, watching her. It was surreal.

...

"Are you awake?" John Watson asked as he knocked on the guest room door and then entered once he received a quiet answer of yes. He moved into the room and saw the little Elizabeth Holmes sat up with a book in her hand as he sat on the edge of her bed.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked her and she shook her head.

"I had a nightmare," she replied. "Mummy died."

"It's only a nightmare," John simply told Lizzie, his hand running through her hair soothingly and she looked up at him and he couldn't help but feel as though Sherlock was staring at him with her face. But he didn't have the urge to punch this version of Sherlock as much as he had wanted to the real version. "Your mummy is at home with your dad."

"I know," Elizabeth said. "She has my lucky teddy so she will be alright."

Oh the optimism of her was something John couldn't knock. And to his shock, Sherlock had never tried to dent it in the child. He had allowed her to believe that Scarlett would get better and he hadn't said anything.

"Well you need to get up," John tapped her on the nose once. "Your aunty Sarah is going to drop you off at school and then your daddy will pick you up tonight."

John left the little girl to change and he moved back over to Sarah in the kitchen where she was preparing a much better pack up for Lizzie than Sherlock had done the other day.

"She's full of hope," John said, leaning against the worktop and drinking his cup of tea.

"She should be," Sarah said simply. "She's a little girl John. She doesn't want to have Sherlock's trait of being pessimistic."

"I think Sherlock is learning a thing or two from Lizzie," John said. "He's been awfully quiet recently and has stopped looking on the bad side of life."

"That's because he's scared," Sarah simply said. "He wouldn't know what to do if he lost her."

...

"The treatment which you're on seems to be doing the job," the consultant informed Sherlock and Scarlett the following Wednesday and Scarlett looked at him with wide eyes as he managed a small grin. Sherlock remained silent, his hands laced together and his eyes narrowed at the doctor, reading him like an open book.

"What?" Scarlett replied. "The cancer is going?"

"The cells are being killed off," the man simply said. "It's stage two cervical cancer at this moment in time but there will need to be surgery in order to rid you of it completely."

"Oh my God," Scarlett whispered, looking at Sherlock who remained tight lipped and looking at the doctor.

"That's not it," Sherlock said out loud. "There is something else."

"What?" Scarlett asked. "It's going Sherlock..."

"Dr Martin's tight lipped face and fidgeting with his watch means that there is more."

"Your husband is correct," the man said, "although his powers of deduction were creepy."

"You get used to it."

"The surgery you need is extensive and it will mean it could affect you for the future," the man told Scarlett and she nodded once. "You may not be able to have more children."


	27. Chapter 27

"How do you feel?" Sherlock asked Scarlett when he saw her coming around from the anaesthetic which she had been given for her operation to rid her of cancer. Sherlock watched as her eyes slowly opened and she blinked multiple times.

"Tired," she simply replied to his question and he nodded, sitting down in the chair by the side of her bed and grasping onto her hand as he did so.

"Understandable," he replied. "They say that you should be able to leave tomorrow morning with a bit of luck."

"I feel sick," she replied simply.

"The anaesthetic can have that effect," a new voice simply said and Scarlett looked to the door where John Watson stood, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he moved into the room.

"What are you doing here?" Scarlett wondered and John looked at Sherlock.

"You haven't told her then, have you?"

"Told me what?" Scarlett asked, sitting up as Sherlock looked at his friend, his eyes narrowed.

"She didn't need to know," Sherlock hissed. "She's just had an operation."

"For the love of God," Scarlett huffed, rolling her eyes. "Tell me what has happened."

"It is to do with Elizabeth," John said simply and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"That's vague," he said. "Elizabeth has gone missing."

"What?" Scarlett snapped, sitting up quickly and beginning to move from her bed.

"Sit down," Sherlock demanded from his wife.

"Where is she?" Scarlett said quickly. "Why aren't you out finding her?"

"I have my homeless network looking around where she could be."

"How the hell did this happen? What have you done?"

"Why have I done something?"

"Because you're the one people want to kill! Not my daughter!"

"She's our daughter," Sherlock replied. "I am aware as to where she could be and who has her."

"You're an arse Sherlock!" Scarlett snapped. "My little girl…"

"Panicking will not help her," Sherlock spoke. "I shall find her."

"I'm coming too."

"No you're not."

"Shut up Sherlock," Scarlett demanded from him. "Our nine year old daughter has been kidnapped and you're not worried…"

"I didn't want to tell you because I knew you would worry." Sherlock defended his actions.

"Ow," Scarlett suddenly complained, standing up and crippling over, her stomach hurting as she did so and Sherlock looked at her, his eyebrows raised in concern as he saw her bleeding.

"Her stitches have broken," John deduced, helping Scarlett to sit back in the bed as Sherlock called for help in the corridor and Scarlett began to cry in pain and fear.

"I told you to sit down," Sherlock snapped as nurses began to fuss.

"Go and find my daughter Sherlock! Now!" Scarlett yelled at Sherlock as she was told to take deep breaths and relax.

…..

"That is why I didn't want to tell her!" Sherlock snapped at John as they rode in the back of a cab and John looked at his friend, shaking his head.

"She had a right to know," John said. "Liz is her daughter as well as yours."

"And now she is annoyed with me and has hurt herself in the process. Well done on your morals there John," Sherlock said sarcastically as John shook his head.

"How do you plan on getting her back?" he asked simply and Sherlock sighed once.

"I am unsure," Sherlock said.

"I thought you told Scarlett you had a plan?"

"And if I told her the truth then she would have stressed even more than she had done. I will find my daughter John, make no mistake."

…

"Sherlock," Molly Hooper jumped when she saw the detective in her lab and he looked at her, taking his eyes from the microscope as he looked at a hair he had found in his apartment which was neither one of his families.

"Molly," Sherlock replied and she looked at him.

"How have you been? I haven't seen you in ages…I heard Scarlett had cancer…I know it can be nasty…I've seen it on corpses…not that Scarlett is going to end up-"

"-Stop talking," Sherlock demanded from her. "Just…stop talking Molly."

"How is Scarlett?"

"She's clear of the cancer. She needed to have an operation but it is gone."

"Oh," Molly said with a smile. "That's good then. Oh God!"

"What?" Sherlock wondered why she had gasped slightly.

"Your daughter!" she replied. "I read about it in the news. It seems your recent cases are making headlines."

"Hmm," Sherlock replied. "Elizabeth is my main priority at this moment in time."

"Do you have any idea who has her?"

"None whatsoever," Sherlock drawled.

"Well," Molly sighed, "you're good at your job. I am sure you will manage to find her."

"I have no doubt," Sherlock said. "But this case is much more urgent than my others."

"I can see why," Molly replied. "I was jealous," she blurted out and Sherlock looked at her again.

"Jealous?"

"Of what you had," she said simply. "Not that I am jealous that you have Scarlett because I am a woman-"

"-I know what you mean," Sherlock said simply. "You'll find someone soon Molly. You've been…slightly unlucky…I mean you did date a criminal mastermind."

"Who?"

"Jim Moriarty."

"He was a criminal?" she wondered and Sherlock looked at her and nodded once. No one knew of Jim Moriarty and what he had done to Sherlock and his wife.

"Yes," Sherlock said. "But he's gone now."

"He hasn't," Molly said and Sherlock looked at her in confusion.

"Excuse me?"

"He had to move because of his job…but he sent me a postcard the other day saying he hoped to come back into town."

"Where is this postcard?" Sherlock asked her.

"I have it in my bag," she said.

"I need to see it," Sherlock said and Molly walked over to her bag and pulled it open, handing the card to Sherlock who had jumped from his stool. He examined the card quickly and recognised the writing and he noticed it immediately.

"Impossible," Sherlock whispered.

"What is?"

"He's back," Sherlock said. "Moriarty is back."


	28. Chapter 28

"Are you telling me what I think I am hearing?" Scarlett asked Sherlock as he paced up and down in her hospital room. His wife had been constrained to her bed for if she were to move then her stitches may break once again. She moved around uncomfortably as Sherlock held his hands together, placing them onto his lips as he thought silently. "I shot him."

"No," Sherlock replied. "He's back. The postcard was his writing and he text me Scarlett. He text me for goodness sake!"

"So you think he has our daughter?" Scarlett asked. "You think that a man I shot has our daughter?"

"I think it is obvious," Sherlock told her. "I think he is back but I don't know how he didn't die."

"I shot him...I shot him in the head..." Scarlett muttered. "I know I did Sherlock."

"I know," he told her. "I saw you after it and you showed the obvious signs of having shot someone."

"Creepy, is it not?" a sudden voice spoke and Sherlock looked up to the door where a tall woman was stood, her hair was in a bun at the back of her head and she wore a crisp white skirt with a white blouse and fur coat, her heels clicking onto the floor as Sherlock and Scarlett looked at her.

"Miss Adler," Sherlock simply spoke as Scarlett shook her head.

"Where is she?" Scarlett roared, her own blonde curls moving around her face ferociously as she sweated. "Where is my daughter?"

"I do not know the answer to that," Irene told them.

"You're lying," Scarlett simply said and Irene shrugged, playing on her phone and not looking at the pair of them.

"I may be," she replied. "But even if I knew where your precious daughter was then I would not tell you. Can you confirm that, Sherlock?"

"Yes," Sherlock replied. "She wouldn't tell us anything. She isn't in this deeply. She's just a messenger judging from the envelope in her pocket."

"You still have it," she commented with a chuckle, removing the envelope and handing it to Sherlock before playing on her phone one more time.

"I must be going," she said in a slow drawl. "People from the government are still out for me and all that."

"It must be terrible," Sherlock murmured.

"You can only imagine," she said with a chuckle. "I'll be seeing you soon."

"Sherlock!" Scarlett snapped at her husband. "Are you not going to go after her?"

"No," Sherlock spoke slowly. "She doesn't know anything. Moriarty won't trust her that much. He doesn't trust anything or anyone."

"What's in the envelope?" Scarlett wondered and Sherlock gulped loudly as he looked into it and handed it to his wife.

"Lizzie," she rested her hand onto the little girl's photo and she shook her head. "What do we do?"

"I'm going to find her," Sherlock said decisively. "You're going to stay here."

"No," Scarlett huffed.

"Yes," Sherlock replied. "You're still not well and running around the streets of London will not help anyone. I don't need your help."

"You may not need my help," Scarlett huffed, "but I am going to give you it."

Scarlett began to climb from her bed and Sherlock rolled his eyes, moving his hand into his coat pocket as his wife began to stand. He gently prodded the syringe into her arm and squeezed down, transferring the liquid from the clear tube into her bloodstream. She looked down at the syringe and then back at her husband.

"What is that?" she asked simply.

"A sedative," Sherlock told her. "I know you'd argue with me on this matter so I had Molly make me one up when I was in the lab."

"You drugged me?" she checked, feeling her limbs tire as Sherlock held her up in his arms.

"Technically it wasn't a drug," he replied and saw her eyes close slightly.

"You're an arse Sherlock Holmes," she said simply. "A complete and utter arse."

And then she fell asleep and became a dead weight in Sherlock's arms as he laid her back onto the bed, pushing her hair from her face and kissing her on the forehead.

"Just stay here," he muttered, "for me."

...

"My daddy said I should never talk to strangers," Elizabeth huffed as she sat cross legged on the bed which had been set up in the basement of a house. The man named Jim looked at her with a cocked brow.

"Did your daddy give you any more nuggets of wisdom?" he asked her and she pouted, crossing her legs.

"I want my daddy," she said sternly, "and my mummy."

"They're engaged," he told her.

"They are married you idiot," she told him, taking his words literally as he rolled his eyes, sitting on the end of the bed.

"Do you like fairytales?" he asked her and she said nothing back to him. "Because you know that in every fairytale there is the kidnapped princess?"

"Not in Pinocchio," she pointed out, "or in the Gingerbread Man or in Puss in Boots or-"

"It's irrelevant," Jim snapped loudly. "In this fairytale there is the kidnapped princess and then there is always a knight in shining armour who saves her, correct?"

"Yes," Elizabeth whispered; becoming scared from the look the man was giving her and he chuckled once.

"Well in this fairytale the knight isn't coming to save the princess and the villain will win."

"I think I understand," Elizabeth told him. "And I disagree."

"You do?"

"Yes," she huffed. "Because my daddy said there is nothing such as a knight in shining armour...he said the only rescuer is a consulting detective."

"Daddy's wrong."

"Daddy is never wrong."


	29. Chapter 29

"You drugged your own wife!" John snapped at Sherlock as the two men sat in 221B Baker Street. Sherlock was barely listening to John as he waited for Moriarty to text him back about where they were to meet. He had his legs folded and his hands were clasped together, resting on his mouth as his concentrating face was occupying his emotions. John shook his head, looking at Sherlock as he paced up and down the room. "Did you hear what I just said?"

"You just stated the obvious boring fact that I drugged Scarlett," Sherlock told John. "Now are you quite done pointing out the obvious which anyone with a dull mind can see? I could have sent Anderson to the hospital to tell me what you have just said and even his dim witted mind would have said the same thing."

"Are you quite done insulting me?" John asked his friend who finally looked up at him.

"Depends if you have any more ridiculous comments to say," Sherlock replied in a drawl and John shook his head, flopping down into the chair opposite Sherlock.

"You can't just drug your wife, Sherlock," John said, his voice becoming even as he spoke. "Normal couples don't do that."

"We are not normal and so I can," Sherlock replied as if it were obvious. "And besides, Scarlett is safer in the hospital."

"Sherlock-" John began but was interrupted by the text message Sherlock had received. The detective stood quickly and pulled his coat onto his body as John did the same.

"He's in the sandwich shop downstairs," Sherlock said. The two of them moved quickly down the stairs and out of their flat and into the sandwich shop which was beneath them. Sherlock's eyes darted around and he saw him. Jim Moriarty was sat at a table for three with three polystyrene cups on the wooden surface.

"Sherlock," he greeted, "and you still have your little pet. Although he is being referred to as Uncle John by a certain guest at my home."

"And where is your home?" Sherlock wondered, sitting down and Jim chuckled.

"Weak question," he said. "Why don't you ask me how it is possible for me to be here?"

"Because I know you will tell me regardless of if I ask or not."

"Clever inventions masks are," Moriarty said simply. "All you need is a deluded dying fan and they'll do anything for you."

"So Scarlett shot an impersonator," Sherlock said simply.

"He was more than willing," Moriarty said. "And he managed to speak in my voice."

"I imagine that was a translator attached to him then," Sherlock replied. "The impersonator was weak and you too were supposed to be weak."

"And your little wife didn't know any better," Moriarty said. "Speaking of the new Mrs Holmes…I do hope she has managed to recover from her illness."

"She is not involved in this. This is between me and you."

"And now your daughter is involved," Moriarty sipped on his tea. "She thinks highly of you."

"So do many others."

"But their opinions are invalid. Your little girl's opinion is the only one you need," Moriarty told him. "You shouldn't get pets," he looked at John, "you're only sad when they get hurt."

"Where is she?" Sherlock demanded.

"That would ruin the little game I have planned," Moriarty told him simply. "My business is booming stateside Sherlock…you should try it over there…"

"So why did you come back?"

"Because you're too fun to play with," Jim said quickly. "You really should not entertain me as much you do."

"I shall try and stop," Sherlock said dryly. "Now where is my daughter?"

"The little princess is sleeping," Moriarty drawled. "You've trained her well. She refuses to believe in fairy tales."

"She knows they will never be useful," Sherlock said.

"True," Moriarty said. "But they are fun. But this one has a twist…the knight in shining armour isn't helping her. No one is helping her."

"And what is to stop me from calling the police right now?" John interrupted. "What makes you think you can walk out of this free?"

"Elizabeth was right," Moriarty said. "You two haven't changed. Well…if you were to do that than all I have to do is click the button on my phone and your little girl will be blown up."

"How do we know you're not lying?" John asked and Moriarty showed the two of them a live camera feed of Elizabeth sat in a basement with an explosive vest on the opposite side of the room. "I didn't want to make her wear it but you both know the damage I can do."

"And what now?" Sherlock asked as Moriarty stood up and he looked down at the detective.

"I watch you dance."

…

"He's toying with you!" John snapped at Sherlock as they walked along the streets after taking a cab to the Houses of Parliament. "And why are we here?"

"Mycroft."

...

A/N: Thank you to every single person who has reviewed recently and I do hope you're still enjoying it! Please let me know what you think!


	30. Chapter 30

"I'm discharging myself," Scarlett snapped as she walked down the hospital corridors with her mobile planted to her ear. Sherlock sighed as he stood outside his brother's house and looked around the busy street.

"You cannot do that," Sherlock replied back to her.

"You can't drug your wife either!" Scarlett yelled down the phone, attracting stares from people who were walking past her and behind her. "But you did that, didn't you?"

"I did it for your own good," Sherlock drawled.

"I'm coming out," Scarlett said in a low and deep voice, "and I am going to find my daughter."

"I have it covered," Sherlock told her. "You need to rest."

"Where are you?" Scarlett asked him. "I will come and meet you."

"I'm busy," Sherlock said quickly back to her, not wanting to tell her that he was with Mycroft knowing that she despised his brother for trying to break her and Sherlock up.

"Don't be cryptic with me Sherlock Holmes!" Scarlett hissed. "You will tell me where you are!"

"Wish I could," Sherlock said. "But I have to go. I shall speak to you later. Go back to the flat and rest."

"Sherlock-" Scarlett said but was cut off when she heard him hang up on her. "Sherlock!" she snapped into it again but received no answer.

...

"She's calling me," John told Sherlock as they knocked on Mycroft's door and Sherlock looked at John for a brief second and he shrugged simply back to him.

"Reject her call," he told his friend.

"I can't do that," John said and Sherlock took the phone and did it for him.

"She does not need to know what we are doing," Sherlock replied. "I'm getting my daughter back and I do not need her help in the state she is in."

"And how are you going to get her back Sherlock?" Mycroft asked and the two of them looked at the politician who was stood in the door and Sherlock moved past him and into his London townhouse.

"So you know she is missing?"

"The entire country knows she is missing," Mycroft replied. "You've become quite an internet sensation and little Elizabeth is also dragged into the world you have created."

"The world John has created," Sherlock corrected him, "with his stupid blog."

"So can you help or not?" John simply asked him back and Mycroft pursed his lips, walking back into the living room and settling down on the fashionable armchair.

"I am unsure what you want me to do."

"You're the British Government Mycroft," Sherlock snarled. "Can you not deploy the army until you find her?"

"My, my," Mycroft muttered. "The Army? You need their help? Can you not solve this for your own?"

"I don't want time to solve this," Sherlock replied. "I want my daughter found."

"And can you not do it?"

"Yes," Sherlock snapped back. "But I need to know why Miss Adler has managed to escape your prison system once again?"

"She is good Sherlock," he said back to his brother. "She can manage to evade anyone. Have you not known that?"

"I know that," Sherlock replied. "But I thought that you would manage to keep her away."

"Well we did not," Mycroft hissed back. "Sherlock, your daughter is being searched for by everyone capable."

"And we both know they are incapable," Sherlock snapped back. "I need contact with Miss Adler."

"And why do you think I know where she is?"

"Miss Adler cannot escape from prison," Sherlock said. "You have paid for her to work for Jim once again, haven't you?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you are a clever man and caught whiff of Jim being back and so you needed the one person who he trusted to get back into his good books so that you could gain information."

Mycroft remained quiet for a few moments, crossing his legs as Sherlock stood by the fireplace and looked at the ornament on the fireplace as John stood in the doorway.

"I underestimate you sometimes Sherlock," Mycroft said simply back to him.

"I am taking it that I am right then," Sherlock drawled. "So her contact details if you will."

"Wait a moment," John replied, shaking his head. "If Irene knew that Moriarty had intended to kidnap Liz then why did you not say anything if Adler is in your employment and has to tell you everything?"

"She did tell me," Mycroft nodded.

"Excuse me?" Sherlock replied, his voice going low pitched. "You knew he intended to kidnap my daughter?"

"Miss Adler had informed me. I was unaware as to when it would happen and where she would be taken."

"And do you think that you should have told us?" John snapped and Sherlock remained tight lipped, looking at the man he was related to.

"I think that if you knew then Moriarty would have made an even rasher decision. He would have noted you being cautious and would have done something even worse. We know how his mind works."

"No," Sherlock snapped. "I know his mind works. You have no idea Mycroft."

"Where's my gun?" John whispered under his breath and Sherlock glared at his friend.

"He is not worth the bullet John," Sherlock replied. "Now, if you would like to give me Miss Adler's phone number then it would be very much appreciated because I have a daughter out there who needs saving from someone who would very much like to kill her."

...


	31. Chapter 31

"Sherlock shall be in touch with you in a matter of moments," Mycroft informed Irene Adler down the phone as she walked the streets of London, hoping to find the cafe where Moriarty had told her they were to meet as he had another message for her to give Sherlock.

"And why is that?" she asked the Government and Mycroft crossed his legs as he sat in front of his fire, twirling the scotch in his hand as he shook his head.

"Because he knows you are working for me and not Moriarty," Mycroft told her. "He wants information as to where Elizabeth is."

"I don't know," Irene replied with a short sigh.

"He thinks you can find out," Mycroft shrugged. "Are you any closer to finding out where she is?"

"No," Irene replied. "Moriarty is being very secretive. I imagine your brother is very angry that you didn't tell him you knew his daughter was to be kidnapped?"

"You imagine correct," Mycroft chuckled once. "But I knew if I told him then he would have become overprotective and Moriarty would have noticed...resulting in the death of all of them I imagine."

"Possible," Irene replied. "He knows when something is wrong and if he couldn't kidnap the girl then he would have tried to have her assassinated because he wouldn't be able to play a game."

"That is why I couldn't tell Sherlock," Mycroft replied. "If we allow Moriarty to play his game then the longer she stays alive and the more time we can have to find out where she is."

"You believe that?"

"I believe he will give you the relevant information when he wishes to," Mycroft nodded. "And when he does I expect immediate contact."

"Of course," Irene replied. "I may have done some bad things in my time but I do not plan on being aid to the death of a ten year old girl."

"Good," Mycroft nodded, "because Sherlock and Moriarty are too involved in each other to notice us. We keep quiet and when you find out where she is then we get her. Sherlock has no hope at this moment in time...Moriarty is far too good."

...

"I've wanted to do that for the last few days," Scarlett said simply after she had walked into 221 B Baker Street and slapped her husband straight across the face. John remained stood and flinched at the noise as Sherlock's face turned to the side and he looked down onto the floor, his hand holding onto his cheek which was stinging before he looked back up at his wife.

"You're an arse," she hissed at him.

"And that was domestic abuse," Sherlock pointed out.

"So is drugging your wife," she replied.

"Consider us even then," Sherlock nodded once.

"Suits me fine," she replied. "Now where is my daughter?"

"If I knew that then I wouldn't be here awaiting the arrival of Miss Adler."

"Why do we need her?"

"Sherlock thinks she may be able to find out where Moriarty is hiding Lizzie," John told Scarlett. "And then there is Mycroft."

"Why is he involved?" Scarlett asked with a snort.

"Why isn't he?" Sherlock said. "He is the British Government."

"Sh!" John suddenly hissed as Sherlock looked at his friend and they all strained their ears to hear what he had heard.

"Mr Holmes," an American accented voice spoke as they appeared in the doorway, guns in their hand. "Where is Miss Adler?"

"What?" Sherlock simply asked. "Why would I know where she is?"

"We traced your phone," he spoke. "She is supposed to be coming here in the next five minutes."

"Well if she is supposed to be here in five minutes then it is likely she is here now. The woman is punctually on time, never early," Sherlock informed them. "What do you want with her?"

"Nothing," the man said. "But Jim Moriarty would like to see her."

"Ah," Sherlock said simply. "Does he not trust her?"

"Not after what he has found out from her."

One hour earlier

"He told me," Irene Adler said quickly down the phone. "Moriarty told me he is keeping her in the basement of a house on Morecambe Row."

"Which number?" Mycroft asked down the phone.

"Sixteen," she said. "You need to be quick."

"Good work," Mycroft replied down the phone and he hung up as Irene walked on, looking proud with herself until she felt a presence beside her.

"So you've just betrayed the information which I gave you?" he asked her simply, looking onto her phone where she agreed to meet with Sherlock in an hour and he took it from her, reading the text and passing her the phone back. "You've been working for Mycroft all along. I had expected that. Your heart didn't seem to be in on the crime."

"His daughter has done nothing wrong," Irene replied back.

"No," Moriarty agreed, "her father has...unfortunately for you the information which I gave you was incorrect. You didn't really think I would give away the location so easily, did you?"

"I...I..."

"You've become naive Irene," Moriarty said, stuffing his hands into his pockets before he looked her in the eye. "You know how I love to play games...let's play hide and seek...I'll give you an hour's head start..."

Irene stood and stared at him for a moment before he checked his watch.

"Tik tok," he simply spoke over and over again until the woman took off down the street.

One hour later

"And so he thinks she will come here why?" Sherlock asked the three men as he sat beside Scarlett on the sofa and John sat to her other side as the three American's stood in front of them with a gun.

"Because she knows she can trust you," one replied. "For some reason she trusts the Holmes boys."

"And if she does not come?" Sherlock replied.

"Then Moriarty has informed us to kill your Mrs because apparently it would make you suffer more and he was intending on doing it for that exact reason...just at a later date."

"How caring," Sherlock said sarcastically.

"And if Miss Adler does turn up?" Sherlock asked.

"Kill her and Mrs Holmes."

"Killing two birds with one stone," Sherlock said under his breath. "So either way you have not had a wasted journey because Moriarty would hate to do that?"

"True Mr Holmes," one replied and checked his watch. "He said to give it an hour...and I suppose it has been just that."

They all nodded at each other and one of them stepped forward, grasping Scarlett by her arm and hauling her to her feet, pressing the gun to her head as she looked at Sherlock.

"Get off!" John snapped and he stood up, only to be pushed onto the floor and Sherlock stood, holding his arms out to stop the other man from advancing towards him.

"This is rash," he said. "Let her go and I won't hurt you all."

"I don't think you're in a position to tell us what to do, Mr Holmes," the one with his wife said and Sherlock chuckled simply.

"I think I am," he replied back to them and quickly hit the man who was stood in front of him before head butting him and knocking him out. John took no time or hesitation in kneeling up and elbowing the man in the stomach as he was too preoccupied with watching what Sherlock was doing. The man with Scarlett lost his grip on her as she turned in his arms, kneeing him in the groin and taking his gun from him as Sherlock stepped behind her, turning her and grabbing the gun from her hands as he did so. With the machine he hit the American across the face, knocking him onto the floor as John finished hitting the other American's head against the coffee table. They all stood back and looked onto the sight, panting as they did so.

"John!" Sherlock suddenly snapped. "You've chipped my coffee table."

...

"Honestly Inspector," Scarlett said as they stood outside the flat of Baker Street and Lestrade looked at the three of them, "the window was open and they fell out."

"And how many times did they fall out the window?" Lestrade replied with a raised brow and Sherlock shrugged simply.

"Difficult to say..."

"We lost count."


	32. Chapter 32

"He knows," Irene Adler said as she stood at Mycroft Holmes door and he allowed her in, the two of them standing in the hallway as Mycroft looked at her and he shook his head.

"How does he know you're working for me?" Mycroft hissed.

"He followed me and gave me the wrong information...he thought I was working against him and he confirmed it tonight...he played me!"

"He's played us both!" Mycroft snapped. "Now he will never trust you and he won't give away Elizabeth's location."

"So what do you suggest we do?" Irene asked. "He thinks I am at Sherlock's apartment at this moment in time and he's warned me that he's going to come after me."

"Well you need to flee," Mycroft simply replied. "I can't see a point in you being here anymore."

"What about Elizabeth?" she asked. "He won't tell Sherlock where she is."

"And now he won't tell you," Mycroft replied. "The whole reason I lied to my brother was so that Moriarty wouldn't be onto us...and now...he's ruined the plan."

"I truly did want to help," Irene told Mycroft as she rested her hand onto the door handle and he pursed his lips.

"Well it is too late now, isn't it?"

...

"I don't even know what to do anymore," John shook his head as he spoke with Scarlett in the hallway of 221 B and they looked on at Sherlock who was sat with his legs crossed in his favourite chair. He was quiet and pensive and his thoughts were occupying his mind.

"He means that much to her," Scarlett whispered back to him. "She's his daughter and he loves her too much to lose her..."

"But he's not acting like you," John said and Scarlett raised a brow.

"Did you think he would? This is Sherlock Holmes were speaking about here," she said.

"I need to go out," Sherlock suddenly spoke and he stood up, pushing himself into his coat as he reached for the blue scarf Lizzie had bought him for Christmas.

"Where?" Scarlett asked him and he looked at her and he shook his head.

"I'm off to see Moriarty," Sherlock said.

"And when was this arranged?"

"It wasn't," Sherlock said. "But I knew where he will be."

"I'm coming with you then," Scarlett said and Sherlock shook his head at her.

"No you're not," he said. "I don't want you to come with me."

"She's my daughter too Sherlock," Scarlett replied. "I care about her and I want her back as much as you do...please...just don't block me out..."

"Scarlett-" Sherlock began but she grasped onto his upper arms and interrupted him;

"I love her Sherlock...and I love you...I can't lose you too...just don't keep things from me..."

"I'm doing this to keep you both safe," Sherlock said in his deep rich voice, looking down into Scarlett's eyes. "I understand how hard this must be for you...but...I can't have you running round London with me...you could be hurt..."

"So could you," Scarlett pointed out and Sherlock shrugged.

"I'd rather get hurt than you," Sherlock told her. "Please just stay here."

"I can't," she whispered.

"Yes you can."

"Do it for me," Sherlock said. "I will find her and bring her home. You need to stay here."

"I'm stubborn," Scarlett said, "and I am not just staying here."

Sherlock suddenly leaned down and kissed her quickly before standing tall and she looked at him with her face screwed up in puzzlement.

"What did you do?" she asked him and Sherlock coughed lightly.

"I...um...placed something in your water you had...I needed to wait for the right moment for it to kick in..."

"It's kicking in now, isn't it?" she asked him and he nodded as John moved from the kitchen and looked at the pair of them.

"Yes," Sherlock replied.

"You can't keep drugging your wife Sherlock," she said.

"I gathered that," Sherlock said and picked her up into his arms as she fell to sleep once again.

"I will divorce you one day," she slurred her words as he carried her through the flat and John shook his head, unable to believe Sherlock had drugged her for the second time in three days.

"No you won't," Sherlock said, his voice full of confidence once he had kicked open the door to his room and rested her onto the bed. He looked down at her and rested his hand onto her cheek, kissing her on the forehead. "This is for your own good."

...

"Aren't grownups silly Lizzie?" Moriarty chuckled as he brought the little blonde girl her daily dose of food and she looked at him, glaring through her eyes as she did so.

"I think you're silly," she simply told him and he chuckled at her.

"Of course you do," he replied. "Your daddy keeps on looking for you."

"Mummy and daddy will find me," she said, "and when they do then you will be in trouble."

"So much faith in them," Moriarty shook his head. "It is shame you don't know any better."

"And I want to leave before my birthday," Elizabeth huffed, "because mummy said I can have a party."

"You don't get to choose when you leave Liz," Moriarty said. "Only I can decide that."

...

A/N: Thank you to all those who have subscribed to my story and to everyone who reviews! Let me know what you think!


	33. Chapter 33

"Ah," Moriarty spoke as he stood in the fresh London air, an ice cream in his hand even in the upcoming winter air. He licked onto the cornet as he noted Sherlock making his way towards him. He took in the fact that the man had turned middle aged but he still looked the same as he normally did. His hair was still black and curly and his eyes were narrowed along with his cheekbones. He even wore the same style coat he did when they had first met ten years ago. Sherlock hadn't changed physically but his emotions had begun to give him away. His eyes were dropped and his face seemed paler than normal. He looked like an ordinary man concerned for the whereabouts of his only living daughter.

"Sherlock," Moriarty greeted him politely, "am I to take it that the lovely Mrs Holmes shan't be joining us again?"

"You would be correct," Sherlock said and Moriarty ate the flake from his ice cream, looking out onto the Thames as Sherlock did the same thing.

"And where is your little lapdog?"

"John is with Sarah," Sherlock told him. "I didn't want to bring him."

"He's still so loyal...even after all these years..." Moriarty shook his head.

"I just want her back," Sherlock said, turning to look at Jim who didn't return his stare at all. He found the murky depths of the river more fascinating. "I don't want to play a game anymore. I only want Elizabeth."

"I want never gets," Moriarty whispered, his eyebrows raised as he did so. "I thought you knew that."

"I'm not going to beg if that is what you're waiting for," Sherlock hissed.

"It would have been interesting," Jim nodded. "But no, I didn't want that."

"Then what do you want?" Sherlock asked him. "What do you want with my daughter?"

"With her?" Moriarty raised a brow and shook his head. "Nothing. With you? I want to watch you crumble."

"Well have you not achieved that yet?" Sherlock snapped. "You've watched me run around London...looking for her...wondering where she is..."

Moriarty finally looked at Sherlock, his face looking at the consulting detectives with integrity and Sherlock simply did the same.

"You've turned ordinary," he informed the detective. "She's made you boring and dull by giving you a child...I had hoped to have her killed but my plan fell through..."

"Why can you not leave my family alone?" Sherlock asked him. "It is me you want to hurt and not them."

"But I can hurt you through them," Moriarty bit down on his cone. "It's more fun this way."

"You can't honestly tell me you're enjoying this," Sherlock said. "You're enjoying tormenting me and we both know I'm not a match for you anymore."

"Yes you are," Moriarty replied. "It pains me to admit you are but we both know you haven't lost it...I just need to get it back out of you."

"I'm not interested in risking my life," Sherlock said.

"Good job," he replied. "I'm not asking you to risk your life. I'm risking your families for you."

"If you tell me where Elizabeth is then I'm done," Sherlock said. "Give me her back and you can go back to how you were."

"I was getting bored," Moriarty complained and he clapped his hands once. "Now I'm not."

He began to walk away as Sherlock walked behind him, grabbing onto his arm and stopping him from moving any further as he showed him the gun which he had in his inside pocket.

"And you think I don't have a sniper trained at you if you make a move?" Moriarty said and Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment. "Now be a good boy and wait for my next clue."

...

Scarlett woke up an hour later with her body feeling physically drained. She slowly sat up and looked around the room, jumping as she saw the figure sat in the corner of the room and she scrambled to the other side of the room as he watched her.

"I'm not here to kill you," he drawled and she snorted, adjusting the vest top she wore and pushing her blonde hair from her face.

"That makes a first."

"There is a first for everything," he replied slowly. "I've decided I have a better way to make your life a misery."

"I doubt that," Scarlett replied. "You've taken our daughter from us."

"And I'm willing to reunite you," Moriarty said and handed her a small screen which showed Elizabeth on a small cot, sleeping. Scarlett looked at it, pressing her finger to her daughter on the small screen and Moriarty snatched it back from her. "I can blow her room up if you don't do as I ask."

"What?" Scarlett replied. "What do you want?"

"Touching," he replied. "A mother will do anything for her child and she doesn't even want to know the conditions."

Scarlett said nothing in return, allowing Jim to continue with his words;

"I want you to come with me and you can stay with your daughter," he said. "Then Sherlock doesn't have either of you."

"You're sick," Scarlett whispered and Jim shrugged, checking his watch.

"That is irrelevant," he told her simply. "Now would you care for me to show you my firework display or are you willing to come?"

...

"I said get off me," Scarlett grunted as Jim grabbed her arm from the car and pulled her from it, leading her up to a house.

"Don't make a scene dear," he said, looking at the neighbours as he did so and smiled.

He led her through the hallway of the townhouse and opened a door which was situated under a white wooden staircase. She left the black tiled floor for stone steps as he pushed her down them into the bricked room. It was lit by one bulb as the steps finished and Scarlett saw her daughter for the first time.

"Lizzie!" she cried out.

"I'll leave you two to it," Jim rolled his eyes as Scarlett took her daughter into her arms, patting down her blonde curly hair as she cried and heard the door slam.

"You found me," Elizabeth whispered. "I knew you would."

"Mummy's here..." Scarlett promised her as Elizabeth pulled away and looked at her mother.

"He's kidnapped you too, hasn't he?" she asked her mother, looking at her with wide eyes and Scarlett wiped hers.

"Yes..." she muttered.

"But daddy will come, won't he?"

"I hope so," Scarlett whispered. "Daddy will come."

...

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and subscribed. Please do review!


	34. Chapter 34

"Scarlett!" Sherlock shouted as he entered 221 B, his voice was high pitched as he carried his keys in his hand, twirling them around his finger whilst taking the stairs two at a time as fast as he could. As soon as he reached the hall he turned into his bedroom and looked around, fully expecting to see her coming round from the sedative he had given her. But there was nothing. With a raised brow he checked the bathroom and then the living room but there was no sign of her. There was nothing.

"Scarlett!" Sherlock roared out, feeling frustrated as to where she could have gone. The whole point in him knocking her out was to keep her in the flat and keep her from wherever Moriarty was. As Sherlock moved around he saw his laptop sat on the coffee table with a note attached to it, telling him to open it up. Sherlock sat on the sofa, doing as it had said as he placed both his hands together, resting a slim finger onto his lips as he saw the picture fire up.

"What have you done?" Sherlock whispered, seeing the image of his daughter rushing into his wife's embrace multiple times, the same shot over and over. He closed the lid, unable to watch after the umpteenth time and closed his eyes, not knowing what to do.

...

"You have it all wrong," a simple voice spoke to Sherlock as the detective answered the door to the flat and Sherlock rolled his eyes, moving to the side to allow his elder brother into the house.

"Do enlighten me," Sherlock replied.

"The reason as to why I could not tell you that your daughter was missing was because Jim would have lashed out when he saw you being overprotective," Mycroft said. "I had that information from Miss Adler."

"She's not in his good books either Mycroft," Sherlock informed his brother who nodded once, placing his umbrella by the side of the little shelf under the mirror.

"And even when Elizabeth was kidnapped then I couldn't tell you I was looking for her. Miss Adler and I had a plan..."

"And do inform me of this plan," Sherlock drawled lightly.

"We were playing sly. We were waiting for him to give away Elizabeth's location before we could make a move. We knew that if he trusted Miss Adler then he would let slip eventually...he would be too interested in his game with you to pay attention to what we were doing."

"Power play," Sherlock whispered and Mycroft nodded.

"And he found out Irene was working for you, correct?"

"Naturally," Mycroft replied.

"And how do I know you're not lying Mycroft?" Sherlock cocked a brow. "You have tried to deport my wife and have been impartial to her dying."

"That was ten years ago Sherlock," Mycroft simply said, checking his pocket watch. "Although I still am not fond of your wife I do not wish to let Moriarty harm her. Time has passed and things are no longer relevant."

"Scarlett still doesn't forgive you for what you tried to do," Sherlock replied and Mycroft shrugged.

"I didn't think she was good enough and so I wanted her gone...it has taken me ten years to see how much she means to you...and your daughter...well...she is only ten."

"Eleven soon," Sherlock said. "So why are you here?"

"I wanted you to know that I had tried my best to help you," Mycroft said. "That I did care."

"You're using the past tense," Sherlock drawled. "How very negative of you."

"I can no longer help you to find them Sherlock," Mycroft said. "I have a flight to America in less than three hours but you do have Scotland Yard on your side."

"Like they have ever helped me before," Sherlock snorted. "I'm the one pulling them out of bother."

"Well...Greg said he is more than willing to help."

"Who is Greg?" Sherlock wrinkled his nose as Mycroft picked up his umbrella and opened the black door slightly, looking back at Sherlock and shaking his head.

"It is Inspector Lestrade's name."

"Is it?" Sherlock said. "I never knew."

"Well...good luck Sherlock...I suppose you're going to need it."

...

"I heard about your Mrs," Lestrade informed Sherlock as they stood in Scotland Yard and Sherlock trawled through records in Lestrade's office. He knew his family were being kept in a cellar and so if he could narrow it down to recently available properties in a certain radius then he would have an indication of where to go. "Dreadful."

"Yes," Sherlock drawled.

"Freak," a sudden voice said and Sherlock didn't even need to look up to know Sally Donovan was stood there. "I have coffee for you sir."

"Put it on the desk," Lestrade said and Sally eyed Sherlock up as he flipped through paper.

"I warned your wife," she stated, folding her arms. "I told her you were no good."

"You should have given Anderson's wife the same warning," Sherlock grunted and Sally huffed slightly. "Might have saved him from a pointless marriage and an expensive divorce caused by sleeping with you."

"Well at least I never risked his life," Sally snapped.

"Donovan," Lestrade snapped. "Don't you have paperwork to do?"

"Yes sir," she replied and backed out the office, returning to her desk whilst Sherlock looked at Greg and nodded.

"Thanks," he said and Lestrade raised a brow, drinking some coffee.

"What for?"

"Shutting up your whining little lapdog," Sherlock grumbled. "I can't take her annoying voice at the moment...or...any moment actually."

"Back to the case Sherlock," Lestrade nodded. "Donovan isn't your concern."

"No," Sherlock agreed. "She is not."

...

"It feels like I've been here a long time," Elizabeth commented as she sat crossed legged on the bed, her face stuffed into her hands as Scarlett tapped the walls, seeing if there was anything to help them escape.

"You have darling," Scarlett replied. "And we've missed you so much."

"The man keeps telling me that daddy won't find me," Elizabeth whispered.

"You know that your dad is doing everything he can to find you sweetie," Scarlett assured her. "You know he never gives up."

"But we're hidden mummy," Elizabeth said. "Won't it be hard to find us?"

"Maybe," Scarlett replied, sighing and running a hand through her hair before sitting next to her daughter on the bed. "But you can't give up hope in your dad, okay? He's saved me a lot of times before."

"What?" Elizabeth's mouth went wide at what she had just heard. "When?"

"When we were younger," Scarlett replied. "Your daddy saved me too many times for me to count."

"He said you were like Daphne," Elizabeth spoke. "The one from Scooby Doo."

"Why?"

"Because you used to get into trouble," Elizabeth replied. "But he always said that was a story for when I was older. He doesn't really like Scooby Doo. He said he didn't understand why it took a lot of people to solve a crime which he could have solved in less than forty seconds."

"Sounds like your father," Scarlett simply snorted.


	35. Chapter 35

"Do you have a plan?" John asked Sherlock as the two of them stood in John's kitchen and Sarah busied herself around the house, unable to believe they were both missing. Sherlock shook his head quietly; his face sombre looking and his hair messed up on top of his head. He had barely eaten in the last ten hours and he hadn't slept at all. Instead he had looked at the needle which could contain any drug he wanted and he had thought about taking the pain away. He had thought about going into his own world and managing to forget everything. But then he knew he would come back around from the drug and they still wouldn't be there and things would not be any better.

"I don't know what to do," Sherlock replied. "He has them both John...he has them both..."

"You'll get them back."

"Do you think so?" Sherlock snapped. "I didn't manage to get my daughter back and now he's taken my wife who has just managed to get over her own cancer."

"Scarlett is strong. At least she is with Liz."

"But I'm not," Sherlock pointed at his chest. "I'm not with them and I'm supposed to be there...I'm supposed to keep them safe and I can't even do that."

"Don't start the self pity," John hissed. "It won't help anyone and it especially won't help you to get rid of Moriarty."

"It isn't self pity," Sherlock replied. "It's the truth."

...

"When he comes in then I need you to close your eyes," Scarlett said, her hands on Elizabeth's cheeks as she looked into her daughter's eyes. "I need you to be brave."

"Why?" Elizabeth asked in a whisper which was similar to her mother's. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to get us out of here," Scarlett said, quickly standing up as she heard Jim open the lock on the basement door and she moved up the steps, the blunt instrument in her hand as she his around the corner. She heard him whistling as he went down, his heels clicking on the floor as Elizabeth shut her eyes and Jim moved into the room, looking around. Scarlett quickly made her move, hitting him on the head with a stone which distracted him as he turned to look at her and she raised her knee, hitting him in the groin as he doubled over and she saw him crumble to the ground.

"Lizzie!" she snapped at her daughter, holding her hand out for Lizzie to take it as she jumped from the bed and the two of them rushed up the steps. Scarlett pushed Elizabeth out of the way, shutting the basement door as she found the padlock and her shaking hands managed to bolt it back onto the door.

"Come on darling," Scarlett said, taking Lizzie's hand and moving down the hall to the main front door as she quickly moved the bolt from the lock and opened it up onto the main street.

...

"Sherlock!" Lestrade snapped down the phone as he looked at the young girl and the woman who had just been brought in and were handed plastic cups of water as they sat on the blue seats. "They're here."

...

Sherlock had never been so eager to get to Scotland Yard in his years of working there but the cab ride seemed unbearable and as soon as he approached he jumped from the moving vehicle, letting John be the one to pay as Sherlock demanded to see DI Lestrade and was led up to the fourth floor in the elevator, his foot tapping as he went.

"Daddy!" Elizabeth's voice squeaked when she saw her father walking into Lestrade's office and she ran up to him as he bent down, his arms outstretched and his face showing a lack of emotion as he managed a small smile and Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck and he held her around her waist as he picked her up, managing to kiss her on her cheek.

"Lizzie," he said simply, taking in the scent of her hair which smelt like dust and he could tell she was in need of a good shower after her time being spent in the basement but he didn't care at the moment in time.

"Sherlock," Scarlett whispered and he used his free arm to take her by her waist and he kissed her quickly and swiftly.

"I can't tell you how scared I was," Sherlock whispered into her ear. "I've never been as worried as I was."

"We're back now Sherlock," she assured him. "We're back."

...

"She wants you to read her a bedtime story," Scarlett informed her husband as she walked back down the stairs from her daughter's bedroom, a towel in her hand as she pushed it through her hair, drying it as she did so.

"I will go in a moment," Sherlock said, unbuttoning his second button to his purple shirt which was tucked into his trousers.

"How are you feeling?"

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" Sherlock raised a brow as Scarlett pulled the strings of her dressing gown tighter around her body.

"No," Scarlett said. "I was the one in control and you weren't. I know how that would have made you feel."

"I'm fine then," Sherlock replied. "I'm fine...you're home now..."

"And Moriarty is being questioned. We're safe now Sherlock...go and read your daughter a bedtime story. I'll see you later."

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked her.

"I'm going to bed," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "I'll see you soon."

...

"So what bedtime story do you want?" Sherlock asked his daughter, sitting on the bed as Elizabeth snuggled into his side.

"I'm tired," Lizzie complained. "I don't want a story."

"So do you want me to leave you?" Sherlock said. "Do you want to go to sleep?"

"Can you stay daddy?" she wondered.

"Okay," Sherlock said and Elizabeth shut her eyes and Sherlock watched her go to sleep, but even after then he didn't move from her bed.


	36. Chapter 36

Scarlett gave it an hour before she decided to go up the steps in 221 B to see where her husband had gotten to. She moved up the steps slowly and quietly, not hearing Sherlock speaking softly to Lizzie as he read her a story. In fact, she didn't hear anything apart from light breathing as she walked into the room and rested against the doorframe, folding her arms and looking on as her husband slept with his daughter resting just below his shoulder. Scarlett smiled to herself, shaking her head and then moved away from the pair of them, knowing they would sleep soundly that evening.

Seven years later

"I'm just saying that I think you should let her go with someone who knows what they're doing and won't snap at her," Scarlett told her husband and Sherlock scoffed, running his hand through his black curly hair as he rolled his eyes at his wife.

"Are you saying I'm not professional?" he asked, grabbing his blazer jacket and shrugging into it whilst Scarlett continued ironing all the clothes which had been placed into the wash basket in the last week.

"I'm saying that she is still a beginner and won't really know what to do because she hasn't passed her test," Scarlett said, placing the iron back into holder it came from. "I think you might just lose your temper with her."

"I won't," Sherlock replied. "You underestimate her IQ Scarlett. She is an extremely intelligent girl."

"Well just look after her," Scarlett demanded from her husband. "I don't want you getting arrested or doing anything stupid."

"I won't," Sherlock replied as he heard the door slam shut and the steps being taken quickly.

"I'm home," the seventeen year old Elizabeth Holmes informed her parents as she dropped her bag onto the sofa.

"How was your day honey?" Scarlett wondered whilst Sherlock stood there, watching his daughter.

"Fine," Lizzie replied.

"Well now that we have established that then we will be going," Sherlock informed his daughter, shrugging into his grey coat as Elizabeth looked at her mother and then back to her father.

"And where are we going?" Lizzie wondered and Scarlett pursed her lips.

"You shall see," Sherlock told her. "Now come on."

"Mum," Elizabeth looked at her mother as Sherlock grasped onto his daughter's arm, wrapping it into his own arm as Scarlett chuckled at her daughter's panicked face.

"He's not taking you to look at more dead bodies so don't panic," Scarlett assured her and Lizzie rolled her eyes.

"That's reassuring," Lizzie muttered as Sherlock dragged her down the steps off 221 B and onto the main street where he stood still and she looked at her dad as he looked onto the road.

"What are we doing?" she asked him, pushing a hand through her blonde hair as Sherlock rolled his eyes and moved to the side of the footpath where a car sat and he tapped it on the roof.

"This is why we're here," Sherlock told her and Elizabeth shook her head.

"Are you trying to tell me what I think you're trying to tell me?" she asked her father and he chuckled but nodded, pulling out a key from his pocket and throwing it to his daughter and she caught it in her gloved hands whilst Sherlock opened up the driver's side.

"Well I'm not standing here all day Lizzie," he informed her and she rushed to his side and climbed into the silver car as he took to the passenger seat, his stomach flipping slightly as he realised he wouldn't be in control. Elizabeth placed her hands onto the wheel, moving them round slightly as she smiled widely and looked at Sherlock.

"I cannot believe you bought me a car! This is completely surreal!" she squeaked and Sherlock chuckled, looking down onto his lap.

"It helps that I have enough money to do this for you. But there are a few conditions Lizzie," he informed her. "I don't want you messing around in this because the insurance of it was more than you can possibly imagine. You have also yet to pass your test so I do not want you driving around in this without me...don't even get into a car with your mother because she is completely uncoordinated and I don't even trust her to drive the trolley when we go shopping."

"I get it," Elizabeth promised her father. "And my driving instructor said I should have passed my test in another month."

"Well consider this practice," Sherlock informed her. "I'll let you start the car."

"And another thing," Sherlock said as he reached for the dial on the control panel in the middle of the car, "no driving around with your music on full blast as the entire population of London does not want to listen to that rubbish you call music."

"Okay," Elizabeth replied and she selected first gear before checking it was safe to drive off.

"You forgot to indicate to set off," Sherlock informed her and she focused on the road.

"There was no one behind me," she told him.

"I still think you should have indicated. Your slow enough for second gear now Lizzie."

"I know dad," she told him as they turned left.

"Remember to check both ways too," Sherlock pointed out, his hand wrapping around the door handle as Elizabeth pulled out and began moving down the street once again.

"Speed bump," Sherlock pointed out as she slammed the breaks on to gently go over it.

"Are you sure it is another month until you can pass your test?"

"I just didn't see the speed bump," Elizabeth snapped at her father for using his sarcastic tone.

"You wanted the left hand lane Lizzie," Sherlock informed her and she shook her head.

"I want the right hand line," she replied. "The other lane will take you straight to the centre of London and it is rush hour and I don't want to be going there."

"I have memorised all the maps of London Elizabeth," Sherlock informed his daughter. "I believe I know where you should go."

"Well I can't move across now it's too late," Elizabeth informed her father and he bit his bottom lip.

"And what have I told you about putting your handbrake on when you stop?" Sherlock asked her. "You need to do it or you become lazy and rely on just using your footbrake which isn't good for the car."

"I was just putting it into first gear and I was going to do that," Elizabeth snapped and Sherlock remained quiet as he heard his phone vibrate and he answered it, watching as Elizabeth looked out the window as they sat at the traffic lights.

"We need to go to St Barts," he told her as he hung up.

"Why?" Elizabeth replied.

"I need to go to work."

...

"You remember my daughter Molly," Sherlock spoke as Elizabeth walked behind him and they made their way into the morgue where Molly was stood, a clipboard in her hand as she looked up at Sherlock and then over to Elizabeth and she smiled at the young girl.

"You look just like your mother...apart from the eyes...you have Sherlock's eyes...and his cheekbones but I suppose you have his brain too but hopefully not his person-"

"Molly," Sherlock interrupted as Elizabeth chuckled lightly. "I'm here to identify a body, am I not?"

"Oh yes," Molly replied. "Her face is a bit disfigured but...well..."

"Just show me," Sherlock said as Molly undid the body bag and Sherlock looked onto her face and he nodded as Elizabeth almost choked on what she had seen and she turned away, turning paler than she already was.

"That's Miss Adler," Sherlock confirmed.

"I'll have the paperwork ran up then," Molly said and zipped the bag up as she looked at her father and he moved away without another word to Molly. Elizabeth followed him, running to catch up.

"Irene Adler?" she checked with her father.

"Yes," he replied.

"Isn't she the woman who-"

"Yes," Sherlock interrupted his daughter and Elizabeth shook her head.

"Well are you going to tell mum?" she asked him and Sherlock stood still, looking at Elizabeth as she stared back at him.

"Your mother often believes you to be blind," Sherlock said. "I had a suspicion you knew."

"You two rowed a lot about her," Elizabeth muttered, sitting down on the windowsill ledge as Sherlock stood in front of her. "Mum seemed to believe there was something going on, didn't she?"

"Your mother was mistaken and we both know that," Sherlock replied. "And this was last year."

"She thought you felt something for Adler," Elizabeth whispered, "didn't she?"

"Yes," Sherlock said. "But she was wrong..."

"Yet your phone did make orgasmic noises," Liz pointed out and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I do not need to hear that word come from your mouth," he said to her. "And Miss Adler only tampered with my phone to make your mother suspicious and we both know it worked. Irene was someone who had photo's containing a member of the royal family and I was supposed to get them back but I couldn't."

"In a compromising position?" Elizabeth asked her father and he pursed his lips but nodded.

"I tried to get them from her and I realised she was quite clever. Something I have yet to come across."

"So that's why mum thought you fancied her."

"Fancy is such a droll word," Sherlock spoke quietly. "I have never had any feelings for Miss Adler other than admiration for what she has managed to do to the government. Your mother knows how I feel about her."

"So are you going to tell her Adler is dead?"

"I don't keep secrets from your mother anymore Elizabeth," Sherlock informed his daughter, managing a slight grin. "We both know that only ends badly. Now come along, we had best be getting back."

"Can I drive?" Elizabeth asked, following her father from the morgue and he shook his head.

"I've had enough excitement for one day without you driving me home and causing my heart attack."

...

A/N: Thank you so very very much to everyone who has added this to story alert or who has reviewed and I hope you continue reading! I'm starting to incorporate things of season 2 into my story at the moment. Please review!


	37. Chapter 37

Elizabeth stood outside 221 B Baker Street as her mother and father spoke of the deceased Irene Adler. Elizabeth had told them that she had an appointment with her friend's to go in search of clothes that evening in the New Year sale which none of them had managed to go to earlier due to exam revision. Lizzie knew she shouldn't lie to her parents and she had a feeling that her father could see straight through her. But lying was sometimes easier and that turned out to be true when the black car pulled up on the curb. Elizabeth opened the door, settling herself into the back seat as the woman beside her nodded once and went back to playing on her phone.

Elizabeth remained quiet for the duration of the trip and continued to stare out the window until her eyes went wide when she saw the car was heading for the Houses of Parliament and it stopped suddenly and the woman climbed out as Elizabeth did the same. She had learnt to not expect any conversation from the people who came to take her to a secret location. She followed the woman into the Houses, unable to believe where she was as she led her into the heart of the Houses.

"Take a seat," she said to Elizabeth. "He shall be here in a moment."

Elizabeth blinked. Did she want her to sit in the empty chamber on one of the green seats? Elizabeth walked down the steps, sitting down on the front seat right where the PM sat when the chamber was in use.

"It isn't as big as it looks, is it?" a man's voice rang out and Elizabeth looked up as Mycroft walked down the steps, settling himself opposite her where the opposing party sat and she shrugged.

"I suppose it isn't," she told him and he chuckled, checking his pocket watch.

"I hope you don't mind me dragging you from your flat," he said and Elizabeth shook her head.

"I had a feeling it would be you," she said. "I've learnt to not tell mum of why you bring me here. She doesn't seem to want me near you."

"You'll know why one day," he assured her. "Until that day arises then I can trust you to keep these meetings secret."

"I think my dad knows I come."

"Sherlock would never stop you," Mycroft shook his head. "My little brother knows it would be pointless."

"So why am I here this time?" Elizabeth asked, crossing her legs and leaning forward, her chin resting in her hand as her elbow rested on her knee.

"He went to identify Miss Adler's body, did he not?" Mycroft checked with his niece and she nodded.

"He did."

"And did he confirm it to be her?"

"Yes," Elizabeth replied.

"As I thought," Mycroft said. "How did he seem afterwards?"

"Ah," Elizabeth said. "You want to know if he is back to using his drugs, don't you?"

"I was curious," Mycroft shrugged. "He and Miss Adler appeared to be rather close."

"You are also forgetting that he is married," Elizabeth said.

"Your mother is no Miss Adler and we both know that."

"My dad loves her," Elizabeth said forcefully.

"Your father also loves working cases," Mycroft pointed out. "Love is something which Sherlock finds difficult to understand. It is a chemical emotion to him."

"He isn't using," Elizabeth sighed. "He didn't seem to disturbed by her death but..."

"But what?" Mycroft asked and Elizabeth stood up, her hand resting on the wooden platform in the middle where politicians spoke and debated.

"He had a cigarette," Elizabeth said. "He sent me to fetch him a coffee with Molly and when we were finished I came back to see him putting it out."

"Do you think it means anything?"

"I think it would be foolish of us to assume it means nothing," Elizabeth replied and Mycroft chuckled.

"You're a lot like him you know?"

"Much to my mother's dismay," she smirked and Mycroft grinned.

"I think my dad considered her an equal," Elizabeth decided.

"I think that is correct," Mycroft decided. "You need to keep an eye on him Elizabeth."

Mycroft stood up as Elizabeth sighed to herself and looked at Mycroft.

"She tore my family apart," Elizabeth said. "She caused a rift between my mum and dad."

"And what are you saying?" Mycroft asked with a raised brow.

"I'm saying that I will look after my dad but if he lets her death get to him then that could cause World War Three in my house."

"Trust me Elizabeth," Mycroft said, beginning to walk back up the stairs, "I've seen the plans for World War Three and they are much bigger than your parent's feud."

...

"Did you not buy anything sweetie?" Scarlett asked her daughter when she walked back into the flat and she shook her head, placing her coat onto the coat hanger whilst Scarlett shrugged into hers.

"There was nothing decent," she said, looking over at her father as he read his paper, taking in the conversation but not inputting to it.

"Oh well," Scarlett said. "We can go when the Spring collection comes out. I've got to go round to Sarah's for a bit to babysit whilst her and John go out and your father refuses to come."

"Oh," Elizabeth said. "Well I still have some homework to do before tomorrow."

"Okay honey," Scarlett said and kissed her daughter on the cheek. "I'll see you both later."

"Bye," Sherlock drawled as he watched his wife leave and his daughter move to the stairs to her bedroom.

...

"You left it ten minutes," Elizabeth spoke. "That's a new record."

"I was waiting to see if you would come down and tell me what he had said to you," Sherlock said and sat down on his daughter's bed, his dressing gown flowing out behind him as she sat in her pyjamas with a textbook open in front of her.

"So you know it was Mycroft who sent for me?"

"I had a suspicion when I heard your phone go off and you lied to your mother."

"Yet you said nothing," Elizabeth said and Sherlock shrugged.

"I was intrigued to see what he wanted."

"He wanted to know if you were using drugs again," she told her father and he chuckled once and she raised a brow. "I take it that you're not?"

"I do not have any on me," he assured her. "The last time you checked you messed my sock index up."

"That was mum," Elizabeth said. "Mycroft seems to think her death has affected you more than you let on."

"And what do you think?" Sherlock asked her simply and Lizzie looked at her textbook.

"You had a cigarette dad," she pointed out. "That means that it means something."

"It doesn't have to and I won't let it," he said to her and she raised a brow.

"Why not?"

"Miss Adler caused your mother and I to argue before and I won't let her do so when she is deceased. I believe that another argument is undesirable much like sleeping on John's sofa which would inevitably happen."


	38. Chapter 38

"Is everything alright at home dear?" Mrs Hudson asked Elizabeth as she held a duster in her hand, moving it over Mrs Hudson's fire place as Mrs Hudson bent down and picked up her rubber gloves, sliding them onto her hands.

"I know you have heard them rowing," Elizabeth chuckled once. "You live downstairs Mrs Hudson."

"Well I don't mean to pry," Mrs Hudson shook her head. "Besides...I am getting on a bit and the shouting doesn't help with my hearing."

"You're still as young as you've ever been Mrs Hudson," Elizabeth smirked at the old woman and she looked back at her, smirking too.

"And you're quite the charmer like your father," Mrs Hudson declared. "But you failed to answer my question."

"Well I don't really know what to say," Elizabeth shrugged. "My mum and dad seem to be getting on fine really."

"Well what was the argument about?" Mrs Hudson asked and Elizabeth focused on her cleaning.

"My dad was sort of getting involved with another woman," Lizzie said and Mrs Hudson gasped.

"He was cheating on Scarlett?" she asked and Elizabeth shook her head quickly.

"No," she said. "He wouldn't do that...but he...it was the game Mrs Hudson."

"The game," Mrs Hudson shook her head. "Your father is ridiculous."

"You can say that again," Elizabeth grunted. "But they will get over it. They have to really."

"Of course they will," Mrs Hudson smiled. "Your parents have been through a lot."

"They don't tell me what they've been through," Elizabeth complained. "My dad says that I don't need to know."

"Well you don't," Mrs Hudson replied. "It would only worry you."

"I can't even Google anything because he seems to be invisible," she complained back.

"Google," Mrs Hudson shook her head. "What are you kids doing these days."

"Nothing as wild as what you did in the sixties Mrs Hudson," Elizabeth said, patting her on the arm as she heard a knock on the door and went to open it.

"Elizabeth Holmes," a voice spoke as she looked at the man with an American accent and she raised a brow.

"Can I help you?"

"No," he said. "But your father can."

"Excuse me?" she said and the man hit her around the face, knocking her so she fell onto the wall at the side. Mrs Hudson looked onto the mess and back at the girl who stood tall again and ducked another punch which the man flung at her. Two others entered the room, grabbing onto Mrs Hudson who struggled but she grasped back at the wall and Elizabeth continued with the other man.

"You have his spirit," he decided as he pushed her against the wall, pinning her arm into his hold and twisting it as she gasped. "Shame it won't work."

"Do you want a bet?" she snapped back at him, pushing backwards but failing to move.

"You are such an arse," she complained as she felt her hands being tied together behind her back.

"Well you should be thanking me that I don't shoot your head from your shoulders."

"Heart warming."

...

"Try not to cry Mrs Hudson," Elizabeth told the old woman as they were sat down in chairs, two men walking around and one man was stood behind them. But each contained a gun. "They don't care for tears."

"She wouldn't be crying if you told me where it was."

"I don't know where it is," Elizabeth snapped. "My dad keeps it close."

"Well we will have to work out where it is then."

"You can search this entire flat and you won't find the orgasmic phone of Irene Adler," she huffed. "He won't keep it anywhere."

"Well this is a turnout," a sudden voice spoke as Sherlock entered the room, his hands behind his back as he looked on at the sight of the two of them. "What can I do for you?"

"You have something we want Mr Holmes," the American declared as Sherlock stepped forward, his hand resting onto Elizabeth's pale cheek and he looked her in the eye before he nodded at Mrs Hudson.

"I believe I do," Sherlock said. "But you need to get rid of your men."

"Go downstairs," the lead American demanded.

"And out to your car," Sherlock ordered them. "Don't try to trick me as it won't work."

"Fine," he said and the other two left as Sherlock stepped backwards.

"How do I know you won't make a move?" the American wondered.

"You can check me if you want?" Sherlock said.

"Don't mind if I do."

"It would be a pleasure," Sherlock said and the American moved forward, his arms patting down Sherlock before he stood tall and the detective pulled something from behind his back, spraying the liquid into the man's face before head butting him.

"Stupid," Sherlock said, looking down onto the floor and then rushing over to the two females.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Mrs Hudson sniffled. "I'm okay..."

"Liz?"

"I'm good," she said and Sherlock managed to untie her wrists and he wrapped his arms around her waist, and held her closely to him. "I'm fine dad."

"I know," he said. "I just don't want my daughter to be held at gunpoint."

"Don't worry about your housekeeper then," Mrs Hudson said and Sherlock smirked at her.

"I thought you were just our landlady?"

"I gave up being just that years ago."


	39. Chapter 39

"Oh baby," Scarlett cried as soon as she saw her daughter after returning from work that night and she looked at Elizabeth as she sat on the sofa and she sat beside her, taking her into her arms and Elizabeth hugged her mother back whilst Sherlock paced up and down the fireplace and Scarlett held her hands into her daughter's hair.

"I'm fine mum," she promised Scarlett who kissed her on the top of her head and she wiped away a tear as she pulled back and held onto her daughter's hand whilst Elizabeth smiled back at her mum in an encouraging manner to stop her from crying. "Dad managed to get here in time."

"What did they want?" Scarlett asked, her voice low and deep as she looked at her husband and Sherlock looked back at his wife and then at his daughter before averting his stare to the window. "Answer me Sherlock. I'm not messing around."

"And you think I was messing around by having to see my daughter held at gunpoint?" Sherlock snapped back at his wife and Scarlett narrowed her eyes.

"Well tell me why she was held at gunpoint then? What did they want from you this time?" she hissed and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"They wanted Miss Adler's phone," he told her. "Mrs Hudson had it on her luckily."

"Miss Adler," Scarlett chuckled once and she stood up and looked down at Lizzie. "Go and pack an overnight bag Elizabeth," she demanded her daughter. Elizabeth stood up cautiously as Sherlock looked at his wife.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm taking my daughter away from here Sherlock," she said.

"Don't go anywhere Elizabeth," Sherlock told her and Lizzie stayed still for a second.

"Go now Elizabeth," Scarlett replied back. "I need to speak to your father."

Elizabeth moved out the room and up the stairs to her room and set about the task her mother had set her with slowness whilst they rowed downstairs.

"Miss Adler isn't dead," Sherlock told Scarlett. "She managed to fake her own death."

"Well isn't she the smart one then?" Scarlett replied sarcastically. "Does that mean the game is back on? More time for you to risk your life and your own daughter's whilst you're at it?"

"What has gotten you worked up?" Sherlock asked. "Nothing happened to Elizabeth."

"You don't get it, do you Sherlock?" Scarlett yelled. "She is a seventeen year old girl and has seen more than her fair share of danger but you just keep getting her into more trouble!"

"I don't want for my daughter to be hurt," Sherlock replied and Scarlett shook her head as his phone went off and made an orgasmic noise like it normally did.

"And I am fed up of that! I am also fed up of you checking it whenever it goes off even when I'm speaking to you! It's like she comes first!" Scarlett yelled.

"You know that isn't true," Sherlock spoke quickly back to her. "You and Elizabeth are my family."

"But she is the case and we both know how you feel about that...I suppose it doesn't help that she's mysterious as well as attractive."

"I don't love her Scarlett," Sherlock spoke quietly to her, his voice deep and meaningful whilst he looked at his wife. "You should know that I don't."

"I don't know what to think Sherlock...did you even think to give them Adler's phone to make this go away and keep your daughter safe?" she asked him and he said nothing in return to her and she nodded once. "I suspected as much."

"We've been through much worse Scarlett," Sherlock assured her and she shook her head.

"That's the problem," she said. "We've been through much worse and Elizabeth certainly shouldn't have been made to go through it. She needs to be kept safe and being here with you isn't making that happen...maybe all of this has been escalating and this is just the climax...I don't know Sherlock."

"So what are you saying Scarlett?" he asked.

"I'm saying that I think we need to clear the air...I think I should take Elizabeth away for a while until this is over...but if it keeps on happening...if you keep on putting her in danger like you have then I don't know what I will do."

"You can't keep my daughter away from me Scarlett," Sherlock said adamantly.

"And I don't want to do that," she said, her hand on her chest. "I don't want to keep her from you and I don't want to stay away from you Sherlock. I love you so much but I love our daughter too and I have to do the best for her...and at the moment...you're not the best for her..."

...

"You're not going to divorce dad, are you?" Elizabeth asked her mother as she sat on the bed in her hotel room and Scarlett looked at her daughter whilst she unpacked her bag and shook her head.

"I love your father."

"Then why have we left him?" she wondered. "And you two have been rowing a lot and I know about Irene."

"How do you know we've been rowing?"

"I sleep upstairs mum," Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "I can hear everything and you two aren't exactly quiet."

"Irene Adler has always been a problem," Scarlett admitted. "She's bright and mysterious...and you know what your dad is like...of course I think she attracts him more than I do sometimes...especially when he can't help but check his phone and run after every lead she gives him."

"But dad does love you mum," she said and Scarlett snorted once.

"I'm a secretary in an accountant's," she said. "I'm average looking and don't have the highest IQ."

"Don't be harsh on yourself," Elizabeth shook her head. "Dad still thinks the world of you. He just doesn't know how to show it most of the time."

"You don't need to point that one out darling," her mother assured her.


	40. Chapter 40

"Should you not be at college?" was the first question which Sherlock asked when he saw his daughter walk into 221B with her flat keys in her hand, a keychain on the end of it as she held up a piece of paper and dropped it onto her father's lap, walking over to the mantelpiece and running her hand over it, not surprised to see it dusty after a week without Scarlett moving a duster over it.

"You passed," Sherlock simply stated and she nodded.

"I booked the morning off from college," she informed him and he nodded once.

"Well done I suppose," he shrugged, placing her driving certificate onto the table whilst he went back to locking his fingers together as Elizabeth sat down in the chair opposite her father's.

"Mum's still mad," she told her father and he chuckled once, his eyes closing briefly.

"She can hold a grudge for a long time," Sherlock said. "I am not surprised she is still mad."

"I am," Elizabeth whispered. "Living in a hotel isn't that fun."

"What does she plan to do in the long term?"

"What do you plan to do in the short term?" Elizabeth replied.

"I am unsure," Sherlock replied.

"All mum wants is for you to drop the case," Lizzie told Sherlock.

"I can't do that," he replied.

"Why not?" Elizabeth asked, shrugging her shoulders. "She just wants you to stop this and not be involved with Adler...why is that so hard for you?"

"She's in trouble," Sherlock replied and Lizzie rolled her eyes, standing up and moving over to the bowl which sat on her father's desk.

"I was in trouble but you still keep going," Elizabeth snapped at him. "Do you even love mum?"

"Don't ask me such daft questions," Sherlock hissed back and Elizabeth picked up the keys to the car she was insured on.

"When was the last time you told her? You've been out of the flat and skittish ever since before Christmas and it's ridiculous," Elizabeth informed Sherlock.

"You don't know what it's like Elizabeth."

"I want to dad," she said and began to feel a tear fall from her eyes. "I don't want you and mum to split up...and...I don't want you to get hurt..."

"Lizzie," Sherlock simply sighed and he stood up and walked over to her as she held a hand up to stop him.

"It doesn't matter," she replied. "You're not going to stop and mum knows that and that is the worrying part."

"I don't ask for you to be threatened," he said to his daughter.

"But you don't do anything to stop it," she replied in a whisper. "You just keep going."

"I feel as though I should allow physical contact when you're crying," Sherlock said and Elizabeth laughed once, wiping her eyes as she looked at her dad.

"I miss you dad," she admitted and hugged Sherlock tightly as he wrapped his arm around his daughter' his hand moving up and down her hair as he remained stood straight.

"Then come home," he said. "The solution is simple."

"I can't," Elizabeth muttered into his jacket as her ears picked up when she heard the sound of footsteps from down the hallway. "What's that noise?"

"Nothing," Sherlock replied quickly and Elizabeth pulled back as she saw a tall woman with long flowing black hair walk from her father's room. She looked like she had been in the shower and she had on one of her father's old blue dressing gown.

"Elizabeth I presume," she said. "I'm Irene Adler."

"You're unbelievable," Elizabeth said and moved from the flat with the car keys in her hand as she took to the steps.

"Was that the wrong time to make a move?" Irene asked and Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her before following his daughter from the flat.

"Elizabeth!" he shouted at her as he slammed the door shut and saw her sat in the silver car he had bought her as she stalled it and slammed her hands onto the wheel. Sherlock took his chance and climbed into the car and she looked at him.

"Get out!" she snapped.

"I bought you this car," Sherlock informed her. "Now I am not going anywhere."

"Jesus dad," she moaned, resting her head on the wheel. "Please say that you didn't..."

"I didn't what?" Sherlock asked his daughter and she shook her head on the wheel.

"Don't make me spell it out," she pleaded and Sherlock gasped once.

"You mean did I have sex with her?"

"Can we not say the word?" Lizzie pleaded. "You're my dad."

"It is biology Lizzie," he replied.

"Irrelevant," she snapped. "Did you?"

"No," Sherlock said. "I found her there when I came back from doing the shopping. She claims there are people there to kill her?"

"Why did you not throw her out?"

"I thought it was caring not to throw someone in danger onto the streets?"

"You're a contradictory in terms dad," Elizabeth complained. "I won't tell mum."

"I think I may appreciate that," Sherlock told her.

"Well," Lizzie pursed her lips, "just...I don't even know what you should do."

"You have a lower IQ than me. You aren't supposed to know what I should do."

"Brilliant," Lizzie snorted. "You've really got yourself into a mess."

"I can untangle myself from the mess," he assured her.

"Why don't you just phone mum and ask her to come back?"

"Why doesn't she just come back?"

"Because you're both too proud for your own good and mum won't come home when she thinks I am in danger."

"The chances of someone trying to kill you again are slim."

"The issue is that there are still chances."

"There are chances of death every day," Sherlock replied.

"But being with you makes it more likely," Lizzie said and Sherlock nodded once.

"I suppose so."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Find out who wants to kill Miss Adler and then inform Mycroft...that should bring you and Scarlett back."

"Why can't you just not help her and then we can come home now?" Elizabeth sulked, her bottom lip sticking over her top one and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Don't sulk," he told her. "It doesn't become you."

"I'm not."

"And besides...Miss Adler did help me and your mother once upon a time...she didn't help successfully but she tried and now I am trying."


	41. Chapter 41

"You still need to apologise to mum," Elizabeth told her father as they continued to sit in the car and Sherlock leant back, his eyes closed as he continued to think about what he should do for the best.

"Apologise?" Sherlock raised a brow and looked at his daughter as she rested her hand on the gearstick, flicking it up and down lightly as she concentrated out the window at the passing traffic.

"Yes dad," she groaned. "Now when do you plan to apologise?"

"Why do I need to apologise?" Sherlock asked her, his face scrunched up.

"Because you almost had me killed?" Elizabeth replied.

"Then should I not apologise to you? And I did not nearly have you killed," Sherlock replied and Elizabeth frowned.

"Do you want to make your life easier?"

"When it comes to your mother life has never been easy," Sherlock grumbled.

"Well you can make it easier by apologising to her," Elizabeth replied, "as soon as you get rid of Miss Adler."

"I'm doing my upmost to get rid of her," Sherlock complained. "I am trying to solve this case but interruptions don't help."

"Well sitting here isn't going to make anything better," Elizabeth said and climbed from the car and Sherlock followed her suit.

"I still cannot believe you managed to pass your driving test so fast," he commented and Lizzie shrugged.

"I did an intensive course dad...I spent all my Christmas holiday cooped up in a car so I could pass quickly."

"It took me longer to pass my test," Sherlock muttered.

"That's because you're not as smart as me," Elizabeth winked once at her father and he shook his head.

"I think that statement is false."

"Ah you're both back," Irene said as they walked into the living room and she sat on the armchair as Elizabeth and Sherlock remained stood up.

"Now who is after you?"

"Are you not going to introduce me properly to your daughter?"

"No," Sherlock said curtly. "Now what do you want from me?"

"Elizabeth Holmes isn't she?"

"She is none of your concern."

"Are you forgetting that I tried to save her when Moriarty took her?"

"Tried to. You didn't. Now answer my question or I shall happily allow you to go out on your own and end up dead."

"Dad!" Elizabeth snapped at her father. "That was a bit harsh."

"She has her mother's good hearted nature then?"

"Very much so," Sherlock grumbled.

"There was this man," Irene began to speak. "I knew what he liked and in return I found out something which he said could save the world...poor dear was a bit tied up when I took what a photo of the email."

"And can I see this photo?"

"Of course," Irene said and Sherlock sat at his desk and Elizabeth sat opposite him at the table, crossing her legs as she received a text from an anonymous number which informed her that a car would be waiting for her outside in the next twenty minutes. She rolled her eyes and deleted the text as her father scrutinised her face.

"Mycroft?" he simply raised a brow.

"How did you even know?"

"It's obvious," Sherlock said.

"Here," Irene handed him the phone and he looked at it with narrowed eyes. They both stood and watched Sherlock for about five seconds before he called out what he knew it was.

"They are seat numbers on a plane," he told her. "And the flight is the 007 which leaves from Heathrow tomorrow night but I am not sure how it is going to save the world ."

"You sure know how to impress a girl Mr Holmes," Irene smirked.

...

"The car is still there dad," Elizabeth muttered as she continued to peer out of the window from behind the curtains and Sherlock sat down with his violin, plucking at the strings whilst Irene Adler made her leave from the apartment, informing him that she had to be somewhere. But Sherlock was in his own world for the most of the time.

"He won't be going until he gets what he wants and that is to see you," Sherlock muttered.

"Why does he have to be so creepy and have this power thingy?" Elizabeth complained as her phone began to ring and she looked at the caller ID and Sherlock closed his eyes.

"Your mother is calling you," he said to her and she looked at his, running a hand through her hair.

"You need to stop doing that," Elizabeth commented as she answered her phone.

"Hey mum," Elizabeth said.

"Elizabeth Holmes where are you? I thought you would be at John's and I would come and fetch you from there and so where are you?" Scarlett snapped down the phone as she stood in John and Sarah's kitchen.

"I...I'm with dad..." she admitted.

"You're with your father?" she checked.

"Yeah," Lizzie said. "I came to tell him I passed my test and I sort of stayed with him."

"Fine," Scarlett sighed. "Tell your father that I expect you back soon."

"Okay. Bye mum."

"Love you Liz."

"She didn't seem that angry," Sherlock said as Elizabeth placed her phone onto the desk and sat on the armchair again as there was a ring from the doorbell.

"Do you want me to get that?" Elizabeth asked and Sherlock shook his head.

"I know who it will be."

...

"She's gone," Sherlock stated when he came back to 221B and he saw Elizabeth sat on the sofa but to his surprise his wife was in the kitchen, unpacking carrier bags.

"And what are you doing here?" he asked her as he leant in the doorway and Scarlett looked at him.

"I live here too," she informed him. "We need to talk anyway."

"Go to your room Elizabeth," Sherlock instructed his daughter who rolled her eyes but complied with her father's request and moved up the steps to her room, grumbling as she did so;

"Just like old times."

"What do you want to talk about?" Sherlock raised a brow.

"Everything. What do you mean she's gone?"

"I mean she had a large government secret but we managed to stop her from spreading it thankfully," Sherlock replied. "Irene Adler has left and I do not know where she will go. Moriarty was involved."

"He's in jail," Scarlett frowned.

"He still has ideas," Sherlock muttered.

"And what was this secret?"

"Mycroft has informed me not to tell anyone what it is but there was basically a flight scheduled to leave Heathrow with dead bodies on it...the plane would have been blown up by a terrorist cell but no one would have died," Sherlock said. "But all that matters is that it is over."

"And do you think that's it?" Scarlett asked him, her voice holding the tone of disbelief is he thought her question was to be answered with a simple yes.

"I can tell that it is not," Sherlock said. "I don't know what more you want from me."

"I want you to tell me..." Scarlett trailed off and shook her head. "I don't know what I want you to tell me."

"I know what you want," Sherlock informed her. "You want me to apologise."

"No I don't."

"No need to go into denial about it," Sherlock assured her.

"You're such a pompous arse," Scarlett complained as Sherlock moved over to her, shaking his head.

"I'm not going to apologise as I never did anything wrong and it is not my thought that you were insecure over Miss Adler."

"I was not insecure," Scarlett denied.

"You were," Sherlock contradicted her.

"Can you blame me?" Scarlett hissed. "You started smoking over her...you never did that for me...you constantly checked your phone when it made an orgasmic sound!"

"You're forgetting something," Sherlock told her.

"And what is that?" she wondered as he lowered his head to hers.

"She's not the woman I'm married to," he whispered and then kissed her.

...

A/N: Thank you to everyone reading and to all those who review and so do leave a review and let me know what you think! Thank you very much!


	42. Chapter 42

"Something is amiss," Sherlock decided on the cold March morning as he sat on the sofa before he jumped up, walking across it and standing on the arm, looking down onto the floor before Scarlett walked back into the living room, drying her hands on a tea towel as she looked up at Sherlock.

"Don't climb on the furniture," she demanded from him. "And what is wrong?"

"I don't know," Sherlock said and he jumped from the arm, his blue dressing gown flowing around him as he paced up and down the living room, his hands going through his hair. "I've never had trouble reading her before...but now...she's different..."

"Who are you talking about?"

"Elizabeth of course," Sherlock said quickly. "I would have thought you'd have noticed but obviously not. I'm not surprised though, you barely notice anything about the change in people's behaviour unless it is obvious which this isn't but it is obvious enough for me to notice because I'm who I am and she is my daughter."

"Sherlock!" Scarlett snapped at her husband. "What is up with you?"

"Elizabeth," he said. "Have you not seen the way she has been acting? She does her homework with the distraction of her phone which is nearly always glued to her hand but it seems as if it is there a lot more often now. And she has been acting happy most of the time and then she sometimes goes quiet and pensive...and she went out last night at seven o'clock. She missed Emmerdale Scarlett!"

"Heavens," Scarlett rolled her eyes. "And I know what you're talking about."

"You do?" Sherlock said. "So you have noticed?"

"No," Scarlett replied. "My daughter just talks to me."

"What?" Sherlock replied. "What did she say?"

"Can you not figure it out?"

"Of course I can," Sherlock huffed. "I'm insulted you would even mention it."

"Well prove it then," Scarlett said, placing the towel back in the kitchen and moving into the living room, picking up her coat and bag.

"I see what you're doing here," Sherlock said. "You're trying to set me up to fail."

"I just told you to figure this out," Scarlett shrugged. "You're Sherlock Holmes...I'm sure you can manage."

"Humph," Sherlock said. "I'll figure it out."

"Good," Scarlett said and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll see you later."

...

"You're a consulting detective," John informed his friend as they sat in the back of a black cab, "not a private detective."

"Well observed John," Sherlock grunted. "And we are waiting."

"I can see that," John said. "You're running up a large tab too."

"That's why I told you to make sure you brought your wallet," Sherlock smirked lightly out the window.

"So why are we sat outside a fast food chain in a cab?" John wondered.

"Because I'm here to see Elizabeth."

"I guessed that much when I saw her car in the car park," John said. "But why are we staying here?"

"Because Scarlett didn't think I would be able to find out what is wrong with Elizabeth and has her acting strange."

"And so you're cheating?"

"I'm not cheating," Sherlock replied, sliding down in his seat as he saw his daughter take the seat near the window, pulling her phone out from her bag and texting quickly whilst Sherlock pursed his lips.

"You are," John said. "You don't know what is wrong with her and so you are spying! So what is up with her?"

"She's been acting odd recently...always seeming happy one minute and then down the next...as well as the fact she never leaves her phone lying around so I can't see what she is texting about."

"Oh," John simply said, his mouth dropping open as Sherlock looked over at John with a raised brow.

"Oh?" he said. "All you have to say is oh?"

"I think it is clear what is happening," John said and Sherlock sat up straight, looking his friend straight in the eye and John nodded. "And the fact you are so oblivious to it just makes this situation better."

"This is ridiculous," Sherlock shook his head. "How can I not read what is going with my own daughter?"

"Well if you look out of the window and at her then you may see," John nodded and Sherlock did as he was told. He narrowed his eyes as he saw Elizabeth run a hand through her hair, her other hand picking up a chip and placing it into her mouth, chewing it with a hand over her mouth as she stifled a laugh at what someone said opposite her. Sherlock saw that it wasn't just someone but a boy. She was with a boy. Without a word to John, Sherlock climbed from the cab and left John with the bill like normal before he moved into the fast food restaurant but John tapped his shoulder before he could move through the crowd.

"Do you want a burger?" he asked his friend and Sherlock cocked his head to the side.

"What are you talking about?"

"You are not interrupting your daughter Sherlock," John said to him. "Now do you want food?"

"I'm not hungry," Sherlock complained.

"Cheeseburger it is then," John said. "Now get in the queue."

Sherlock reluctantly stood next to John as they queued up for food and Sherlock continuously looked over to the small booth where his daughter was sat with a brunette boy and he shook his head as he looked at the queue in front of him.

"Most of the people in here don't need these calories," Sherlock hissed and John shook his head, holding his hand to his temple and rubbing.

"You can't say that."

"I just did," Sherlock replied. "I thought this was supposed to be fast food?"

"Would you just be patient?" John hissed as they were finally called forwards and Sherlock snorted as the girl in front of him asked what they wanted.

"She's going to mess your order up," Sherlock informed John as the manager in the backgrounds lurked around, seeing if Sherlock was going to cause a scene. "She's clearly hungover."

"Sherlock," John hissed and the girl went wide eyes.

"I'm not," she denied. "Now what can I get you?"

"You still have on smudges from last night's makeup and your hair hasn't been thoroughly combed and there is also the fact that your collar isn't straight as well as your badge being wonky which means you weren't focusing on what you were doing. You're also chewing gum, which I am sure is against regulations to cover the fact your breath stinks of alcohol and you have messed up the last few orders. You also have a coffee stain on your uniform which you drunk in an attempt to wake you up which is failing because your eyes are drooping. Now, would you like to know who you woke up next to this morning considering you left in a hurry or do you now accept the fact that you're drunk?"

The manager was now stood behind the girl as Sherlock folded his arms and John looked at the floor, shaking his head as the girl looked at the two of them and then at the manager who had a raised brow. And then she ran off crying.

"Well done Sherlock," John hissed. "Well done indeed."

"I didn't want anyone suffering from bad food," Sherlock decided as someone new stepped to the till and gulped, wondering if they too were going to be insulted.

"Two cheeseburgers and chips with two lemonades," John declared to the new boy behind the counter. "We'll go and take a seat."

Sherlock followed John off to a booth on the other side of the restaurant as he kept sneaking peeks across at his daughter.

"She's probably lost her job thanks to you," John told the detective.

"Why would she not tell me she was with a boy?" Sherlock wondered.

"That is a hard question," John said sarcastically. "Because she won't want you to do what you just did to that poor girl?"

"Unless he is drunk then I wouldn't have done that," Sherlock shook his head. "He clearly has issues."

"Jesus," John complained.

"He's overconfident...but he's insecure with girls...he's trying too hard to make her laugh."

"How can you judge him from over here?"

"Quite easily," Sherlock replied in a mutter.

"Here's your food," a small voice squeaked out and placed the tray onto Sherlock and John's table as Sherlock looked up at him.

"Your mother is cheating on your father," he declared.

"Don't listen to him," John said.

"Why do you think she hasn't been home last night?" Sherlock replied and the boy's eyes went wide as John kicked Sherlock under the table and the consulting detective flinched, giving the boy time to scamper off.

"What was that for?"

"You're being even more of an arse than normal," John said and ate a chip. "Now eat and shut up."

"He's smart," Sherlock declared. "Not as smart as Lizzie but he is in her law class I am guessing. He likes to talk so he is opinionated and the only class Lizzie takes like that is Law. But he can't drive...he only has his wallet and phone on the table and no car keys...he has no pockets for them either...means he can't be taking her anywhere in his car or killing her even though her driving is bad enough to kill them both."

"A missing rabbit," John said suddenly. "I saw someone has asked you for help with a missing rabbit on your blog."

"Yes," Sherlock replied. "It is probably dead."

"Maybe you should investigate," John shrugged.

"You're trying to distract me from working."

"You're not working, you're spying," John corrected him.

"Same thing."

"No it is not," John replied as the two teenagers stood up and began to clear away their table. Elizabeth walked with the boy towards the doors as she looked to the side and she stood still, looking at the table as her father raised a brow and she shook her head, walking out the restaurant and John waved awkwardly.

"She knows we've been watching," Sherlock said and John rolled his eyes.

"Were you that obvious?" John said. "And I wasn't watching. I wanted to give her privacy."

"On the bright side I did win the bet with Scarlett," Sherlock said and ate a chip as Elizabeth drove off in her car.

"On the down side you have just annoyed your daughter," John said.

"She'll come round," Sherlock shrugged. "She always does."


	43. Chapter 43

"Mum!" Elizabeth yelled as she walked into 221 B and she saw her mother sat on the sofa and Scarlett looked at the clock, raising a brow whilst Elizabeth threw her things down onto the coffee table and Scarlett's eyes went wide.

"And what is the yelling and slamming for?"

"He was there!" she shouted. "He was sat there and he was spying on me!"

"Who?"

"Who do you think?"

"Oh," Scarlett simply said. "He found out."

"How did he find out?" Lizzie wondered, moving around the flat and jumping over the mess her father had been making due to his experiment which no one was to move. "I didn't want to tell him until Michael had asked me out properly..."

"I kind of...I said I knew why you were acting weird," Scarlett shrugged. "But I bet him that he wouldn't be able to find anything out but it seems that didn't work out."

"Why did you bet him? You knew he had no case and would do anything to find out...I can't believe he would spy on me."

"You shouldn't really have kept this from him Lizzie," Scarlett muttered. "He is your father."

"He is also a sociopath who would want to rip Michael to shreds." Lizzie replied as the door slammed shut and Sherlock walked up, hanging his coat up whilst Scarlett flicked through the paperwork she had brought home.

"You could at least have said hello to John and I." Sherlock instructed his daughter and her eyes went wide and she shook her head.

"Are you serious? You were spying on me!"

"I was just in the same place as you," Sherlock lied.

"You don't eat fast food!" Lizzie snapped back. "I know you were following me by the awkward look on Uncle John's face!"

"John would give the game away," Scarlett nodded and Sherlock glared at her.

"Well I wanted to know why you were acting odd."

"You could have asked me first."

"I would not have received a straight answer...anyway...who is the boy you were with? He looks awfully pompous-"

"-Michael is not pompous!" Lizzie hissed back. "He is just a little opinionated."

"I can tell by the way he wouldn't shut up. He must be in your law class."

"You are ridiculous," Lizzie snapped. "Why do you think I didn't want to tell you anything until we decided to go out? I knew you'd be like this!"

"And are you dating?" Sherlock asked her and Lizzie shrugged quickly.

"I don't know."

"Does he want to date you?"

"I don't know."

"If he does then I would like to meet him."

"No," Scarlett said quickly and she stood up. "I put my foot down on this."

"Why?" Sherlock wondered.

"You would give the boy a heart attack! You would deduce things about him and think it would be normal to do so!"

"Would it not be normal?" Sherlock genuinely asked with confusion in his voice.

"No," Lizzie replied. "I seriously don't want you to scare him off dad."

"I just want to know if he is good enough," Sherlock replied. "I am your father and you have a high standard because of that."

"If I bring him home then you have to promise there will be no interrogations and no experiments going on," Lizzie said sternly to her father.

"Would he object to eyeballs in the microwave?"

"What?" Scarlett snapped. "You had best be joking Sherlock Holmes!"

"I don't find it a laughing matter." Sherlock pursed his lips.

"Well if he doesn't object then I certainly do," Scarlett told her husband and he shook his head, wondering how he coped living with two women.


End file.
